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S. G. & E. L. ELBERT 

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$m$ttd$$;h% ELLA SMI2H_ELEER!I! t88 

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Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by Thomas 
McGill, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United 
States for the District of Columbia. 









Introduction 7 


The Father of Waters 9 

The Creoles of Louisiana 13 

Languages, Dances, etc., in New Orleans 18 

The Sons of Erin in the Crescent City 24 

Catholic Burying Grounds — All Saints' Day 27 

Military Parades in New Orleans 34 

The Marchandes in New Orleans 37 

The Bouquetiers 40 

Mardigras 43 

The Charivari in New Orleans 47 

Natchez 52 

Lynch Law in Natchez 57 

Port Gibson 60 

Dangers of Southern Travelers 64 

Temperance Man in the South 71 

Anecdote of Two Southerners 77 

Hospitality of First Settlers — Panthers, etc 83 

Indian Mounds — Deer, etc 96 

Anecdotes of Yazoo and other Counties 105 

The Choctaws 118 

Locations in Mississippi, etc , 125 

1* 5 



Prose.— The Pleasures of Poverty 129 

Woman 136 

Courtesy — Gentleness of Manners 146 

Reminiscences of my Boyhood 155 

Children and Ghost Stories -166 

Revenge and Malice 176 

Husband and Wife 18T 

A Mother's Love 194 

Charity 201 

Religion 208 

Envy and Jealousy 214 

Duty of Parents 224 

IngTatitude 236 

Thoughts and Feeliugs on a Sick Bed 246 

Cleanliness and Tobacco 252 

Mount Vernon; the Mecca of our Union 2G4 

Poetry.— The Bridal Kiss 135 

I would not be alone 144 

Woman's Glance 154 

Youth 164 

Time alone can cure 175 

Hope 186 

Religion and Friendship 192 

"Man wants but little here below" 199 

Spring is come again 205 

A Prayer 213 

Summer 222 

My Dog 234 

Jenny Lind ', 245 

A Penitent's Prayer 251 

Parody on "Could I find a Bonny Ulen" 202 

The Gallant Dutchmen and the Bee ; or the 

Rake-Handle Conquest 272 

A Duel in New Orleans in 1829 275 

Lines addressed to my old fri< nd, Gen. Ben- 
bury, of North Carolina 280 


Immediately after the decease of my husband, Ool. James R. 
Oreecy, I anticipated having published a work of magnitude 
and value, written by him at the express desire of several 
membei^s and senators, portraying the manners, customs, 
habits, and plantation life in the south. The MSS., to my 
great disappointment, and still greater pecuniary loss, was 
mislaid in the publishers' hands in New York, the more to be 
regretted from its having been written expressly for the press, 
and much time and talent expended on it. 

The' present work I have now compiled, is composed of 
fugitive pieces, loose MSS. found in a portfolio, and consist- 
ing of matter which will be well-calculated to amuse some, 
instruct others, and sincerely do I hope interest all who have 
been so kind as to give their influence in the publication of 
Scenes in the South! 



On the morning of a lovely day in October, in 
1834, I first saw the month of the Father of 
"Waters; and the wildness and desolation of the 
scene will ever remain deeply engraved on my 
memory. I was a passenger in a fine new ship 
of over five hundred tons, and had enjoyed a 
most delightful trip of six days from the Ches- 
apeake. A pilot had hoarded us the evening 
before, and as we approached the Balize, my 
first impression was the vast extent of marsh : 
so waste, so uninhabitable, so lonely, so like the 

Great Desert of Sahara, in monotony and dreamy 



stillness ! — a dreary home for alligators, mud- 
turtles, cat-fish, aud sea birds! The view pro- 
duced a melancholy sensation at my heart, which 
I could not easily get rid of. And now the 
steam-tug came out, puffing and snorting to 
shame the hordes of wild horses of the Western 
Prairies ; tearing up the muddy waters, which 
extend miles into the deep blue Gulf, apparently 
determined to take possession of Neptune's briny 
empire, by force, positively refusing its offered 
amalgamating embraces, and standing aloof, 
walled up, marking distinctly the line of march ! 
We were hailed, boarded, and soon taken in 
tow by the foremost boat, and jerked rapidly 
into the swift current of the Mississippi, where, 
for miles on both sides of the channel way, 
on entering, were piled, in wild confusion, 
thousands of trunks, bodies, and the larger 
limbs of trees, bereft of foliage and bark ; 
bleached till white as human bones on the 
fields of Waterloo, and looking like the skeletons 
of departed glories, once the majestic beauty 


and pride of the river in higher regions, 
thousands of miles away north. We were 
anchored just above the light-house at the S. 
W. Pass, and away our tug dashed and puffed 
for other tows now in sight, bound in. We 
luxuriated on choice fish and oysters, purchased 
from boats soon along side, for the oysters 
of that region are equal in flavor to any in 
the world, and the fish only inferior to the 
hog fish of Lynn Haven Bay. About 10 p. 
M. our tug came along, with a brig astern 
and a ship on one side, grappled us to the 
other, and bounded away at the rate of eight 
miles per hour, against a four-mile current, 
for the Crescent City ; and, malgre all stop- 
pages and necessary delays, we were safely 
secured before 1 p. m. the next day at a wharf 
nearly in front of the United States Mint. 
With what astonishment did I, for the first 
time, view the magnificent levee, from one point 
or horn of the beauteous crescent to the other, 
covered with active human beings of all nations 


and colors, and boxes, bales, bags, hogsheads, 
pipes, barrels, kegs of goods, wares and mer- 
chandise from all ends of the earth ! Thou- 
sands of bales of cotton, tierces of sugar, mo- 
s ; quantities of flour, pork, lard, grain 
and other provisions; leads, furs, &c, from the 
rich and extensive rivers above; and the wharves 
lined for miles with ships, steamers, flat-boats, 
arks, etc., four deep! The business appearance 
of this city is not surpassed by any other in 
the wide world : it might be likened to a huge 
bee-hive, where no drones could find a resting 
place. I stepped on shore, and my first excla- 
mation was, "This is the place for a business 
man!" How many like me have said the same! 
How many such have there found early graves! 
How many have sickened and suffered deep and 
agonizing disappointment! And how many of 
the vast number of annual adventurers have 
ever realized their brilliant expectations and 
Impes ! 


That there is much liberality, generosity, friend- 
ship, and kindness in New Orleans cannot be 
questioned ; hut there is also a picayune dispo- 
sition, a closeness of calculation, a savin gness of 
manner indulged in by a large majority of the 
Creole population, that would teach a Yankee 
tin peddler lessons in economy. The Creoles 
generally live on less and make a display with 
less than can any Connecticut graduate of a 
savings college or school of onion raisers or 
straw braiders. They can do more with a bottle 
of poor claret, smiles, bows, shrugs, and grim- 
aces, than a Virginian of the first family can 

with a dozen superior sparkling champagne 
2 13 


worth twenty dollars. Politeness costs them 
nothing ; smiles and bows are abundant and 
cheap, and in those commodities they are pro- 
fuse and liberal. There is but little sterling, 
honest friendship in existence; and exhibition, 
outward show, and pretension are the ruling 
passions ! A poor fellow, who lived on the 
coast adjoining the estate of a wealthy Creole 
planter, was met on foot, much fatigued, by the 
Proprietaire, who thus addressed him: 

" Bon jour, mon ami. Mon Dieu! You 
appear ver moosh fatigue. Yat is mattair vis 

"Why, sir, I am just from court, which I 
was compelled to attend as a witness; the 
weather is warm, and 'tis a long walk for an 
old man." 

"Ah, ha, you valk? Le diable! For vy you 

" Because I have no horse to ride, sir." 

" Mon Dieu ! mon ami, mon voisin, you 
know J'ai nombrcs des chevaux — I have plenty 


horses; pourquois you don't send to me for a 
horse ven you valk such long vay ; ha, my 
friend, my neighbor? Is too had for you valk 
dare; you go anozair temps, you sen for my 
horse, certainment." 

"Oh, I thank you most kindly, sir," replied 
Lazarus, who really supposed him in earnest; 
and the very next time he was compelled to 
attend court, he was green enougn to send his 
son to borrow a horse from his rich voisin, 
when Dives responded with a choleric shrug : 

"Mon Dieu ! Dat man is dem fool! I not, 
no, nevair, lend my horse to nobody, bo gar ! 
I tell him so for de compliment; he no onder- 
stan de compliment; go, tell your fardair, I not 
let to him my horse — dare — dat's de ting. I 
no lend my horse to nobody — dare!" 

I do not wish to be understood as including 
the whole Creole population as having this lit- 
tleness of soul, this low-lived Yankee peddling 
meanness. By no means : for I know there are 
many noble, princely exceptions. 


Good claret is really good; but bad, is like 
unto Jeremiah's figs — the good are very good; 
the bad too bad to give the pigs ! A few days 
after my introduction to a French Creole, of 
dashing exterior and dancing-master-like man- 
ners, I accidentally passed his residence on Kam- 
part street, He was on the steps, recognized me, 
and after a profusion of bows and smiles, in 
sisted on my taking some wine with him ; I 
consented, walked in, and the flourishes com- 
menced. He rang a hand-bell violently. After 
some delay a servant girl made her appearance, 
and my host addressed her pompously: 

"Adele! apportez instamment une bouteille de 
vin, bon et frais. Entendez ? Vitement, vite !" 

The domestique disappeared, and then compli- 
ments were thrown on me broadcast. Time 
passed ; perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, not 
quite long enough to manufacture the wine, but 
long enough to send to a grocer and have a 
bottle entered on the pass-book. At length 
Adele returned, wind-broken, with the precious 


liquid — but " no long cork," hermetically scaled, 
was to be drawn with the enlivening pop. It 
was a common black junk bottle, with a greasy 
atom of cork three-fourths of an inch in length, 
which was fingered from its new home, and 
with an additional flourish or two, the thin 
watery preparation, resembling, in flavor and 
color, a miserable mixture of vinegar and water 
stained with pokeberry juice, was decanted — 
bows, shrugs, and grimaces encore — when I 
swallowed a gill or so to the " votre sante" of 
my entertainer — may the Lord in his mercy for- 
give me! — and then, with a smile on my lips and 
a twinge in my heart. I took leave of my hos- 
pitable host forever. 



The Creoles of Louisiana are generally a gay, 
gallant, gaudy, graceful, sunny set, who can 
distance the cutest Yankee of all New England 
in economy any day in the year ! In New Or- 
leans, men from every State in the Union ; from 
every country in North and South America ; 
from every nation of Europe, and many from 
Asia and Africa, are to he found; and all husi- 
ness men who expect to succeed should speak at 
least three modern languages. 

In a room where were assemhled sixteen per- 
sons, I have heard four different languages 

spoken at the same time. All talk! One speaks 



French, and is replied to in English. Another 
speaks German, and is replied to in Spanish. 
Another speaks Spanish, and is replied to in 
French, &c. — not one, at the time, conscious 0/ 
or thinking of the language he uses ! Many 
negroes speak three languages in such a mannei 
as to defy you to tell which one of the three is 
their vernacular ! New Orleans is the heaven 
of negroes, and in that city they are the hap- 
piest human beings that ever breathed the breath 
of life. They never know nor feel the sufferings 
of cold or hunger ; and they are not obliged or 
compelled to labor hard at any time to procure 
food, clothing, and shelter. The diseases so fatal 
to strangers they are in a great measure exempt 
from; and altogether they are, beyond doubt, 
the most comfortable and joyous of Grod's crea- 
tures. There are many free negroes in the city 
and state ; some of them wealthy and the owners 
of numerous slaves ; and, strange as true, they 
arc genenerally the hardest masters and mistresses. 
North of Kampart street, about its center, is 


the celebrated Congo Square, well enclosed, con- 
taining five or six or perhaps more acres, well 
shaded, with graveled walks and beautiful grass 
plats, devoted on Sunday afternoons to negro 
dances and amusements. The Creoles of Lou- 
isiana — Spanish, French and negroes — are Catho- 
lics, with but few exceptions, and on Sabbath 
mornings the females and a few elderly males 
are punctual in attending their religious duties. 
The holy mass is not neglected by those two 
classes, but the afternoons and evenings of the 
Lord's day are spent in amusements, fun, and 
frolic of every description — always with an eye 
to much sport for a little expense. 

The "haut ton" attend operas, theaters, mas- 
querades, &c. The quadroons have their dash- 
ing fancy balls, dances, &c; and the lower order 
of colored people and negroes, bond and free, 
assemble in great numbers in Congo Square, on 
every Sunday afternoon in good weather, to 
enjoy themselves in their own peculiar manner. 
Groups of fifties and hundreds may be seen in 


different sections of the square, with banjos, 
tom-toms, violins, jawbones, triangles, and vari- 
ous other instruments from which harsh or 
dulcet sounds may be extracted ; and a variety, 
indeed, of queer, grotesque, fantastic, strange, 
and merry dancers are to be seen, to amuse and 
astonish, interest and excite, the risibles and 
wonder of " outside barbarians," unskilled in 
Creole or African manners and customs. 

Sometimes much g^ace and often surprising 
activity and long-continued rapid motions are 
seen. The dancers are most fancifully dressed, 
with fringes, ribbons, little bells, and shells and 
balls, jingling and flirting about the performer's 
legs and arms, who sing a second or counter to 
the music most sweetly; for all Africans have 
melody in their souls; and in all their move- 
ments, gyrations and attitudenizing exhibitions, 
the most perfect time is kept, making the beats 
with the feet, heads, or hands, or all, as cor- 
rectly as a well-regulated metronome! Young 
and old join in the sport and dances. One will 


continue the rapid jig till nature is exhausted ; 
then a fresh disciple leaps before him or her and 
"cuts out" the fatigued one, who sinks down 
gracefully on the grass, out of the way, and is 
fanned by an associate with one hand, while 
water or refreshments are tendered by the other. 
When a dancer or danseuse surpasses expecta- 
tion, or is particularly brilliant in the execution 
of " flings" and " flourishings " of limb and 
body, shouts,, huzzas, and clapping of hands fol- 
low, and numerous picallions are thrown in the 
ring to the performers by (strange) spectators. 
All is hilarity, fun, and frolic. To witness 
such a scene is a certain cure for ennui, blue- 
devils, mopes, horrors, and dyspepsia. Hundreds 
of nurses, with children of all ages, attend, and 
many fathers and mothers, beaux and belles, 
are there to be found ; there, where no cares or 
sorrows intrude; where pains and heart-aches 
are forgotten; where duns are unknown, and 
all earthly troubles cease to torment, pro tern. 
Every stranger should visit Congo Square when 


in its glory, once at least, and, my word for 
it, no one will ever regret or forget it. It is 
human nature to love to look on nappy, joyous, 
smiling faces, and there no others are to be 
seen. The gaieties continue till sunset ; and at 
the " gun-fire" the whole crowd disperse, dis- 
appear, and "the noise and confusion " in Congo 
Square is heard and seen no more until the 
next blessed Dimanche. 



For many years the annual influx of the lowest 
order of Irish into New Orleans has been im- 
mense, and the numbers who are buried in the 
"swamp," subjects of yellow jack and cholera, 
are astonishing; and yet their places are in- 
stantly filled up, as are the ranks of well-disci- 
plined troops in destructive battle. Eight out 
of ten who are attacked by those diseases become 
victims; and perhaps at least one-third of every 
importation have one or the other or both of 
those dreadful diseases. Nine-tenths of all the 
diseased poor immigrants who find shelter and 

attention in the numerous hospitals are for- 



eigners, by far the greater number of whom, are 
Irish of the lowest and worst character; reck- 
less, abandoned, drunken, lying, dirty, ignorant 
wretches, who are more at home in the police 
office than anywhere else; and, as the fun-loving 
John Duggan would say, "Dthey ar' niver at 
pace until dthey ar' in a fight intirely!" 
Thousands of them leave every summer for the 
upper country, where they do not fare much 
better than in New Orleans. They are never em- 
ployed except from necessity. The negroes have 
decidedly the preference, and readily obtain much 
higher wages. The Irish females are as disorderly 
and dissipated as the males, and 'tis sickening 
to see what numbers are every morning taken 
before the recorders for crimes and misde- 
meanors the preceding night! All laborers of 
good habits can obtain work and good pay in 
New Orleans. Living is not so dear as in this 
city, (Washington,) and beggars are seldom 
seen. But a few days after my arrival, I was 
standing at the corner of Royal and Canal 


streets with Dr. K , when a stout, hearty, 

comfortably clad Irish woman interrupted our 
conversation by thrusting her hand between us, 
and saying, in the very richest brogue of Tip- 
perary : 

"Wud yer 'onners be plaised to give me a 
quarter iv a dollar ?" 

To get rid of her speedily, I handed her a 
"bit," and so did the Dr., who said: 

"Why don't you go to work and earn money? 
You are strong enough for anything." 

She fobbed the change, and with the most cun- 
ning look and roguish wink I ever witnessed, 
replied, as she turned away: 

(t Who the divil d'ye think 'ud work, when 
dthey can git a hoonderd dollars a moonth be 


The first of November is indeed a memorable 
day in New Orleans, and on that day, in 1834, 
I first witnessed a scene which, for solemnity and 
pathetic effect on the finer feelings of the human 
heart, will never be surpassed. I was invited 
to accompany a family of friends to the Catholic 
burying grounds, and was told that I would be 
deeply interested in the exhibitions and cere- 
monies of the day, and would see a vast con- 
course of people, citizens and strangers, who 
annually attend to participate in or look upon 
the sacred right or custom never forgotten or 

neglected by the Creole population. I thought 



but little of my intended visit, or what I was 
to see or hear; but walked on, thinking and 
speaking of other things, until we arrived at the 
first gate to the resting-place of the departed, 
where sat a man jingling a dish or howl con- 
taining silver change to attract the attention of 
new comers. All of our party contributed, and 
we entered the sacred grounds, when my aston- 
ishment was great indeed. Magnificent and 
costly tomhs, vaults, and the humhlest grave- 
stones, were adorned, dressed, and decorated ; some 
most richly, with costly materials — silks satins, 
muslins, and cloths. Beautiful and many-colored 
lamps were "blazing in all directions and forms; 
lovely flowers in vases, pots, and jars ; splendid 
"bouquets and tasteful wreaths were entwined 
and interspersed, in various forms and figures, 
over all the quiet dead. No festive mirth was 
there ; no gay and sprightly laugh was heard ; 
no merry smile was seen ; no prattling wit, no 
mirthful thought, no joyous sound, had place in 
all that hushed and humbled assemblage. My 


heart melted, and my memory went back to my 

mother's grave, far, far away. For it had 

pleased high Heaven to cast my lot so, that to 

visit the last home of my infantile love and 

subsequent veneration, annually, was impossible. 

Oh, how heavenly, holy, how dear and sweet, 

the melancholy sensation, to see, to know, that 

death had not obliterated from the living the 

memory of friends and kindred, though deeply 

buried "low in the ground!" How sweetly 

happy was I to see the silent tear of affection, 

still living, trickling down the cheek of the 

young and old, while bending with clasped hands 

in pure devotion over the sad remains of long-lost 

loved ones: the child thus remembering its 

parents — the parents their children — the brother 

his sister — the sister her brother — the husband 

his wife — the wife the husband and partner ot 

her joys and sorrows and hopes! And still 

more, and as interesting, perhaps, to see slaves 

sobbing and mourning over the graves of their 

masters and mistresses, many prostrated, over- 



come with sorrow; and nurses weeping over the 
children of their owners, who had died in their 
arms, after months and years of attention and 
kindness and love ; the memory retaining a warm 
place in their honest hearts, and calling forth, 
year after year, prayers and tears of affection 
and love. I have witnessed numerous instances 
of this divine feeling in the "breasts of female 
slaves for the children of their masters entrusted 
to their care; I have seen them grieve when the 
name cf a deceased child was mentioned, long, 
long after its father had ceased to drop a tear 
to its memory. 

That is the pure love from heaven — holy 
nature's love! Long may it live! We passed 
through cemetery after cemetery, (for there are 
three ancient ones, on a line, in the rear of 
Rampart street.) All were dressed, beautifully 
adorned, with festoons and fringes, and with all the 
charms of nature and art, in the richest manner, 
or most simply and neatly, as the means were 
rrad for one or the other. The light contirued 


to burn the live-long night, and many of the 
devotees never left their places of mourning, 
where slept the mouldering and decayed remains 
of loved ones, long gone, till the dawn of an- 
other day reminded them of worldly duties to 
the living. 

How hallowed, how heart-softening, how sweet, 
how heavenly, is this most affecting custom! 
Until I then witnessed it, I was ignorant of the 
existence of such an impressive and endearing 
ceremony in any country. How consoling must 
be the thought on the bed of death to know 
that once, at least, each passing year, some 
friend or relative will certainly visit, ornament, 
and drop a tear of fond and tender recollection 
on your grave! remember your virtues; your 
faults forgiven, forgotten! How sweet, when 
we must die, to know there lives even one kind 
friend who will bend in prayer over our earthly 
remains, and remember us kindly at least once a 
year! I had a dearly loved, gallant son, laid 
"low in the ground, " in the bright bloom of 


youthful manhood, some months after my de- 
parture, perhaps forever. A year or more had 
elapsed, my heart still throbbing with grief for 
his premature exodus, when I received a letter 
from an angelic girl who knew him, telling me, 
in the purity of her soul, that, on her return 
from a summer trip north, she had visited my 
poor boy's grave and dropped a tear, with a wreath 
of flowers, on it, in the name of friendship for 
me and mine. A few more months only passed 
away, ere the God of Heaven, (in His wisdom,) 
who gives and takes, called that dear, sweet, 
" angelic girl" to His home of glory and hap- 
piness on high, (for she was too good for this 
world,) and her remains now rest not far from 
his for whom she wept, to receive the annual 
tear-drop from many a friend who will never 
forget her worth and beauty. 

This custom is a heartfelt, pure, and heavenly 
one, that does honor to the Creole population 
of the Crescent city, and might be adopted by 
all religious denominations, without a charge or 


suspicion of bigotry or sectarianism, as evidence 
of living charity, love, friendship, and endearing 
recollection of deceased associates, too often too 
soon forgotten. 


All Creole families who have a rood of ground 
or more, cultivate and sell more or less flowers 
and fruits. The most beautiful and finest peaches 
in the world are produced in Louisiana and 
Mississippi; but apples and cherries do not thrive 
well. Melons of delicious flavor and the largest 
size grow in those States. I have seen water- 
melons often weighing from forty to sixty pounds. 
Please say why do poor people live in a cold 

The military parades of the Creole volunteers 
take place on the Sabbath; and the "Place 
d'Armes," a square immediately in front of the 

old Spanish Cathedral, is the muster-ground ; 



and while the organ in the venerable edifice is 
pealing anthems to Him on high, while the holy 
mass is being presented to the pious worship- 
pers, the words of command, clash of arms, 
rolling of drums, the fife's shrill whistle, and 
the crack of rifles, are heard above all! 

The public gambling houses, which were open 
at all hours and well attended, were suppressed 
or prohibited in 1836, I think. Whether any 
good has resulted from it is more than doubtful; 
for the gambling is carried on, perhaps, to as 
great an extent now, privately, and the victims 
and their robbers are only the more cautious, 
hypocritical, and deceitful. In the public estab- 
lishments many young men were deterred from 
venturing or exposing themselves, and dared not 
indulge in the vice at all for fear of losing 
their situations, or not obtaining them, if in 
want; now, those who are cursed with the in- 
fernal propensity, ruinously enjoy it, sneakingly, 
in private. I have reflected deeply on this 
subject; and, as people will gamble, I think it 


would be better for wives, children, and friends 
if gambling houses were licensed and heavily 
taxed. The debased would then be more gen- 
erally known, and the evil consequences of their 
misdeeds more readily guarded against. 

The contrast in the customs, habits, and 
manners of the citizens or residents of the dif- 
ferent municipalities is remarkable West of 
Canal street is the American part of the city, 
and there the Sabbath is respected as in a New 
England village. All the stores, drinking-houses, 
and places of business, theaters, &c, are closed; 
the churches are well attended, mornings, after- 
noons, and nights; and all the rowdy, vulgar, 
and dissipated sons of or from the northern, 
eastern, and western States, who desire to frolic 
on that day, leave that section of the city, and 
participate in the enjoyments of the Creole popu- 
lation, at horse-races, bull-fights, expeditions to 
the Lake, &c. 


The street pedlars in New Orleans are a queer 
set. The rabais carry a great variety of small 
and necessary articles (which are constantly used 
or wanted in every family) in a kind of hand- 
barrow, with a frame or box at each end, and 
straps resting on the shoulders, while the ra- 
bais is placed in the middle, holding each side 
with one hand. It has four posts or legs, about 
eighteen inches in length, on which it stands 
when the rabais stops to trade or rest. The 
weight must be sometimes seventy or eighty 
pounds. He wends his weary rounds from early 
morn to dewy eve, singing monotonously, but 


4 37 


"Rabelle a bais a Las!" "Rabelle a bais 
a bas!" constantly when without a customer. A 
fair translation of his cry I never could obtain, 
but it is perfectly understood, and all the little 
boys and girls, mammas and servants, hail his 
appearance as he trudges along, wearied, yet 
chanting all the while, from street to street, his 
unvaried " Rabelle a bais a bas!" till he is 
called, when, stopping, he sits on the off-side 
of his carryall, and begins his little trafiquer. 
The rabais are numerous, particularly in the 
French and Spanish parts of the city; but they 
faithfully and religiously observe and keep sacred 
the holy Sabbath, which no other traders or 
laborers or artisans do in these quarters. The 
magazines in the first and third municipalities 
are all open ; carpenters, masons, blacksmiths, 
painters, &c, are all at work; drays are rat- 
tling through the streets; cafes are open and 
thronged; balls, theaters, operas, and masque- 
rades are in full operation and well attended, 
on the evening of the day proclaimed in the 


Decalogue, as one of rest and peace and 

The Creole slaves perform a harder duty on 
that holy day than on any other in the week. 
The scouring, washing, and cleaning is done on 
that day generally. Many of the female slaves 
are marchandes during the week, and their shrill 
cries never cease from morning's dawn till u le 
milieu de la nuit" — Marchande de tait ; mar- 
chande des pates, tous cliauds; marchande des 
oranges, douces tres douces; marchande des ooufs, 
Creoles, tous frais; marchande des galettes 
chaufTe; marchande des plants; marchande des 
figues, douces et frais, and marchandes in every- 
thing to eat and drink or use in a small way, 
for the Creoles buy everything in that way. 
When a Creole gives a dinner party, the cook 
purchases and brings on her shoulders from the 
marchande de bois a picallion's worth of wool 
pour C occasion! 


TnE bouquetiers are an interesting and joyous 
class of marchandes, and a most beautiful and 
splendid exhibition they ever make. Numbers of 
them are to be seen daily and nightly at all 
the public places, and at the corners of the most 
frequented streets, nearly all of them neatly 
and prettily attired — the ever fashionable ma- 
dross tastily arranged as a head-dress or turban. 
They are generally quadroons or mulattoes, of 
handsome appearance, petite figures, with spark- 
ling black eyes, beautiful teeth, and pleasing 
manners, and they have such a finished tact at 

ing of their fragrant and splendid bou- 



quets, that a stranger is fortunate, indeed, who 
can escape their entreaties and inducements to buy 
at whatever price they may demand ; the smiles 
and courtesies are ever ready, and the sweetly 
uttered — 

" Je vous remercie, monsieur," on exchang- 
ing a bouquet for a piastre, almost tempts one 
to buy another. 

The wily bouquetiere sees the effect of her 
costume, and plays off her skill again with 
almost certain success, in this way — 

"Voulez vous un autre, monsieur, pour ma- 
dame? Yoici, voila," holding up a beauty, 
"pour votre fille? Pour votre amitie? C'est 
tres joli — deux piastres, simplement ; achetez, 
monsieur ? Oh ! merci, merci, monsieur ; Je vous 
remercie," taking the two dollars and handing 
over the bouquet with looks, and smiles, and 
wiles worth two more at least. 

The most lovely flowers and ornamental shrubs 
are there ever in bloom and verdure ; and there 
is no difficulty whatever in procuring magnifl- 



cent bouquets any month in the year. Native 
and exotic plants and flowers of the richest 
description are cultivated and reared to perfec- 
tion in the open air; and the trade in flowers, 
&c, is one of considerable magnitude. 


Shrove Tuesday is a day to be remembered 
by strangers in New Orleans, for that is the 
day for fun, frolic, and comic masquerading. 
All the mischief of the city is " alive and wide 
awake," and in active operation. Men and 
boys, women and girls, bond and free, white 
and black, yellow and brown, exert themselves 
to invent and appear in grotesque, quizzical, dia- 
bolical, horrible, humorous, strange, masks and 
disguises. Human bodies are seen with heads 
of beasts and birds; beasts and birds with 
human heads; demi-beasts, demi-fishes; snakes' 
heads and bodies with arms of apes; man-bats 

from the moon; mermaids, satyrs, beggars, monks, 



and robbers, parade and march on foot, on 
horseback, in wagons, carts, coaches, cars, &c, 
in rich confusion, up and down the streets, 
wildly shouting, singing, laughing, drumming, 
fiddling, fifeing, and all throwing flour broad- 
cast as they wend their reckless way, regardless 
of the recipients' comfort, and careless of their 
eyes t clothes; laughing loudly at threatened 
punishment, and adroitly escaping all attempts 
at redress. Thus they ride and run, and dash 
and flash, and fling their flour about, to the 
delight, amusement, and astonishment of the 
great mass of spectators, malgre the liberal 
donations of hands full of flour constantly ap- 
plied, right and left, which in clouds fall upon 
those within reach ; for all the fraternity carry 
their pockets full. One large nondescript car 
(drawn by four horses, uniquely caparisoned and 
draped with fiery dragons, serpents with numer- 
ous heads, scorpions with many stinging tails, 
!.,) was the moving prison of his most satanic 
• sty, ignoniiniously and vulgarly chained 


securely — head, horns, tails, and all — blowing 
from his volcanic mouth, flames of fire and 
fumes of sulphur, surrounded with his fami- 
liars, imps of the most infernal appearance con- 
ceivable, " cutting up" and playing antics that 
would astonish Macbeth' s witch and her caul- 
dron attendants; whooping, yelling, groaning, 
grinning, and gibbering in such a manner as to 
occasion doubts in spectators whether they should 
laugh or cry, be amused or frightened. This 
carnival is permitted by the city authorities, 
sometimes rather reluctantly, and has been 
more than once forbidden, as well as the Congo 
Square dances; but the Creole propensity for 
those amusements is so strong that their friends 
are soon placed in power again, and the wild 
frolics are hailed by acclamation, as the mas- 
quers and fun and mischief-loving revelers make 
their appearance. This is the last day of enjoy- 
ment before the commencement of Lent, and it 
is a custom to which the old citizens were, and 
their descendants are, much attached, and it 


will be difficult to prevent its continuance. 
Upon the whole, there is much moi*e amusement 
than positive evil in it, and it is as well, per- 
haps, to let it alone. 


The charivari is another extraordinary custom, 
in some respects peculiar to New Orleans, which 
is indulged in, generally, when an odd, unequal, 
or uneven pair is married — as a very young man 
to an elderly woman, or au contraire; or when 
a very rich man marries a very poor girl, or 
au contraire; or when a fine-looking man mar- 
ries a hard-featured woman, who is very wealthy, 
and is blessed with carroty locks, cross-eyes, 
freckled skin, turnip nose, teeth like a roughly- 
used garden rake, and suspected of an evil 
tongue and a Caudle temper; or when a man 
or woman of doubtful or questionable blood 

marries one whose blood is thought to be pine 



and unmixed, or when old bachelors and maidens, 
far in the sear and yellow leaf, unexpectedly 
become Hymen's victims. Then, immediately 
upon the knowledge of any such event, Captain 
Eicardo, for years the head, heart, and spirit of 
the celebrated " Sheet Iron Band," issues his 
proclamation ; and, as the 9 o'clock p. M. gun 
fires, blows his horn, when, as if by magic, his 
well trained, noisy troops assemble by hundreds 
at the spot designated, obedient to orders. Old 
Rick addresses them briefly ; and, not being a 
member of Congress, he only speaks of the sub- 
ject and object of the meeting — never flies the 
track to abuse and insult his associates, or make 
personal explanations, or new Presidents. No, 
indeed ; Ricardo is a man of business ; he does 
what he ought to do, only, and directs his com- 
mand to do the same, and they do it. Their 
heterogeneous collection of musical and noisy in- 
struments are put in order, and away they 
march to the happy home of the newly married 
couple. Their arrival is announced by soft and 


gentle music, "Home, sweet home;" " Wooed, 
an' married, an' a';" " Sweetly ring the mar- 
riage bells;" And then old Kick rings the hell, 
politely requests an interview with the enchanted 
groom, and respectfully asks of him a donation, 
in consequence of his happy turn of fortune, of 
one, two, four, five hundred, or a thousand 
dollars, (as the circumstances may justify,) for 
the "benefit of the "Female Orphan Asylum!" 
As the custom is well known and understood, 
the first request is generally complied with; when 
the company, with much good feeling, serenade 
the hridal party sweetly, ending with "The 
bairns ar' nae at hame yet." But sometimes the 
uxorious debutant is provoked at such an inter- 
ruption of his early "honey moon," and has the 
temerity to refuse. Kick never presses his claim 
courteously twice the same night; no, he blandly 
bows himself out, and at a signal the whole 
"Sheet Iron Band" sounds the "alarum of re- 
fusal!" And then such a din, such "noise and 
confusion/' such rattling of dry bones, blowing 


of horns and conchs, sounding of gongs and 
trumpets and rattles, and beating of drums, 
salute the cooing doves, that " tired nature's 
sweet restorer, balmy sleep," visits no disciple 
of the drowsy god, in that house or that neigh- 
borhood, till the next matin bells do ring for 
early devotees. Some few obstinate and miserly 
"hindiividuals" hold out and keep their purses 
tight and close, but Ricardo and his band attend 
him as regularly as the booming of the gun, or 
the vesper hymn, and he now demands (for he 
requests but once) generally double the amount 
first asked. The wild and screeching, thunder- 
ing serenade is continued night after night until 
the worn down victim of an unequal marriage 
either runs away, "slopes for Texas, "or parts 
unknown — wife, money, and all — or pays the 
demand ; which is, certainly, the very next day 
faithfully delivered to the superintendent of the 
asylum, and the amount received is faithfully 
chronicled in the city papers. Many thousands 
of dollars have been added to this most chari- 


table institution by the exertions and eccentri- 
cities of the amiable, kind, and good-hearted 


Early in December, 1834, I landed at Nat- 
chez, having made the trip from New Orleans 
in rather less than three days — a brag passage at 
that time. I was comfortably quartered at 
Parker's Hotel, and was detained there by busi- 
ness several weeks. 

Natchez "under the hill" was then the terror 

of all decent and moral people; crimes of the 

deepest dye were reported as being committed 

daily and nightly. Gambling, drunkenness, and 

beastialities of the most infernal description 

were known to be perpetrated, but generally 

under such circumstances that the laws of the 

J and could not reach the guilty, and Lynch law 



was often resorted to by some of the very best 
citizens, to punisb those who could not be pun- 
ished in any other way. Whether the excuse 
was entirely sufficient I leave to those better 
skilled in laws divine and human. " Necessitas 
non lidbet leges." 

A man named Foster was then in prison for 
murdering his wife under circumstances of the 
grossest brutality, and, as was understood and 
believed, without a shadow of cause or provoca- 
tion. He was, if not wealthy, at least perfectly 
independent, for his property was valued at 
twenty thousand dollars, clear of debt. He had 
been in prison for some months, and by some 
queer or strange law then in force in Missis- 
sippi, no man could be tried for any offence, if 
a court or two (I do not recollect the particulars 
perfectly) were suffered to pass during his im- 
prisonment without his being brought to t-rial, 
and by some quirk or quibble of his counsel, 
this happened in the case of Foster. It was 

known that under that law, at the approaching 


session of tlie court, the judge would "be com- 
pelled to discharge Foster; turn him loose upon 
an outraged community, unscathed, unwhipped of 
justice, his hands reeking with the blood of his 
virtuous and butchered wife, to exult and gloat 
over his infamy, and, like a wild beast once fed 
on human flesh and blood, acquiring an insa- 
tiable love for such food, to hunt for other 

The best part of the community became ex- 
cited. It was whispered that he should not so 
escape. When the court met and the judge was 
applied to by Foster's counsel to discharge him 
as the law directed, he was taken from the jail 
to the court-house by the sheriff, accompanied 
by some two hundred or more citizens of Nat- 
chez, among them many of the most respect- 
able, wealthy, and worthy. The judge, upon 
hearing the fate of the case and reading the 
law aloud as applicable, formally dismissed or 
discharged him. The sheriff walked with him to 
the door, when, without "noise or confusion," a 


committee of the citizens assembled, invited him 
to take a walk ! The liberated criminal, as pale 
as a corpse, understood instantly the object of 
the invitation, and saw that opposition would be 
useless; two gentlemen seized him, each by a 
shoulder, a line was formed almost in silence, 
and the word "march" was pronounced finally 
by a tall man in front. The whole crowd moved 
as regularly as a well-trained regiment. No 
shouts, no threats, no exhibition of passion were 
heard or seen. He was taken quietly to the 
suburbs of the city, stripped, whipped most 
severely, tarred and feathered, and then marched 
back into the city, with a fife and drum playing 
the " rogue's march." It was nearly sunset when 
the Lynchers and their victim neared the jail; 
some such exclamations were heard as "Take 
him to the river, tie him to a log, and set him 
adrift." "Hang the villain, who more richly 
deserves the gallows." "Never turn such a fel- 
low loose to butcher another wife." A lawyer 
of some celebrity, S. M. Grayson, (since dead,) 


at that moment jumped on the steps of the jail, 
pulled off his hat, and said with a loud voice: 
"My friends, we have done our duty as good citi- 
zens, and I now propose that we all go quietly 
to our homes!" But little if any objection was 
made; and in that short time the sheriff skill- 
fully managed to get Foster into the jail and 
locked the door, securing him from the multi- 
tude for the moment at least. I saw him for 
the first time, as he was assisted or rather forced 
up the steps; and he was the first victim to 
Lynch law I had ever seen! Almighty Father, 
what a picture! He was more like a huge 
shapeless fowl, covered with masses of feathers, 
all turned the wrong way, than anything else. 
He had been severely lacerated, thoroughly coated 
with tar, and a large bag of feathers were glued 
to his person, from the crown of 1 1 is head to 
the soles of his feet! That night, late, his 
friends (for a man worth twenty thousand dol- 
lars will have friends) took him secretly from 
the jail, and I never heard from him afterwar Is. 


An Italian was found secreted in a store late 
at night — no door or window Lad been broken, 
nothing belonging to the premises was found 
upon his person. He refused explanations, and 
would answer no questions whatever. He was 
taken before the authorities, very strongly sus- 
pected of evil design, as the store but a few 
nights previous had been robbed of rich goods 
to a large amount. Nothing could be proved 
against him, except his being in the store, and 
he was discharged. Instantly he was walked 
off by a crowd of citizens to where a gallows 

had been erected some time previous, a few 



hundred yards south of the city. I almost in- 
voluntarily followed, and with a heating heart 
expected to see the poor devil hung outright. 
He was taken under the gallows, stripped, tied 
down securely, and the lash applied most power- 
fully to his hack and shoulders till fifty hlows 
were counted, when a cessation took place, and 
the question was put to him : 

" Who are your accomplices, and where are 
the stolen goods ? " 

Up to this moment he had not spoken a word 
or exhibited any feeling; and then his simple 
reply was : 

"Kill a me!" 

Fifty more stripes were repeated, and this 
game was continued until the miserahle devil 
received five hundred laslies ! He spoke no other 
word during the whole time, hut replied audibly 
to each question, " Kill a mo." He survived 
the punishment — arose from the ground after 
being untied, with the assistance of one of his 
countrymen, (who was strongly suspected of being 


one of his associates in robbing the store.) walked 
into the city, and I never more heard of them. 
Now, I am unwilling to be thought an advo- 
cate of Lynch law, for I have a natural aversion 
to violence and outrage, and am opposed entirely 
to capital punishment for any crime. I cannot 
believe that man has any right to take away 
what he cannot restore, should be subsequently 
assertain that he had taken it unjustly. I be- 
lieve that punishment should be inflicted on 
criminals ; but I know that hanging a man is 
the very worst use a man can be put to. And 
I also believe, that when the laws of the land 
cannot reach a villain, evidently and palpably 
guilty of atrocious offences, I might look on the 
operation of Lynch law with some degree of com- 
posure, although I could not, would not aid 
and assist. 


I arrived at Port Gibson, rather a pretty little 
town on Bayou Pierre, a few miles from Grand 
Gulf, Mississippi, about sunset one evening, in 
the summer of 1835. Some court was in session, 
the public houses crowded, the niusquitoes (a pes- 
tilence forgotten or unknown to the chronicles 
of Egyptian plagues) too blood-thirsty and nu- 
merous to mention, and to sleep without a "bar" 
or netting was, to a thin-skinned Anglo-Saxon, 
utterly impossible. So, I had my horse taken 
care of the moment after I dismounted, hunted 
for the landlord, who I happened to know, and 
inquired if he could furnish me with a bed, 

secured in such a manner that I might enjoy 




tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." 
He said if I would "go to bed" immediately, 
lie could give me one. It was then not fairly 
dark, but I said : 

"Well, sir, I have ridden forty miles over a 
rough road to-day, am much tired, and I will 
retire so soon as you will show me a bed." 

He took a candle and went with me to a 
room in the second story, where there were three 
tolerably decent beds, well protected against the 
buzzing vampires, two of which were already 

"There," said he, "is a good bed, sir, take 
possession of it at once, or some other person 
will have it in less than ten minutes." 

He left the room and shut the door. I took 
off my coat, vest, stock, &c., and was in the 
act of drawing off one of my boots with the 
aid of a chair, when a fellow apparently half 
drunk, with a cigar in his mouth, opened the 
door very rudely, and stepping within eight or 
ten feet of me, rather impertinently said: 


" That's my bed, sir, and I mean to sleep in it." 

"Not to-night, sir," said I. 

" Who showed you that bed, sir," said he. 

I replied very mildly — 

" Mr. Reed, the landlord, sir." 

"Do you know who I am, sir," said he. 

"No, sir, nor do I care," said I, taking a 
firm hold of the chair with both hands ; for I 
did not intend to give up my bed. 

"Why, sir," said he, "I'm captain here I" 

"Oh, ho!" said I, "you're only a captain, 
are you ; very well, then, sir, I out-ranh you 
entirely, for I am lieutenant-general and com- 
mander-in-chief of this division, and do you obey 
orders instantly. Right about face, and march 
directly out of this room," raising the chair at 
the moment, with a look that he could not mis- 
understand , when, to my astonishment, the scamp 
ran out of the door and burst out into a horse- 
laugh, where he was joined by three or four 
associates, who fairly shouted at his discom- 
fiture ; and I learned enough as they retired to 


satisfy me that it was a ruse, a dastardly at- 
tempt to get my bed by u bluffing me off the 
track/' as was the expression. 

The inmates of the other two beds were won- 
derfully amused at the way in which I got rid 
of the fellow; and really I was happy at the 
laughable termination, for I found myself more 
excited than I was aware of, as I most cer- 
tainly should have tried the temperature of his 
head with the chair, if he had continued the 
game any longer. 

The next morning, Mr. Keed mentioned that 
my interrupter had requested him to apologize 
and to introduce him to me. I refused, posi- 
tively, any acquaintance or association with a 
man who would have deprived me of a bed, if 
he could have played upon my fears, and was 
willing to make me an object of contempt and 
ridicule for his tipsy companions. Such conduct 
is palpably wrong and dangerous; and as I never 
amused or indulged myself in any tricks of the 
kind, I could think of no excuse for others. 


A few days after, I was on my way to Jack- 
son, and stopped at a house some seven or eight 
miles from the pleasant little town of Raymond, 
where I fared tolerably well, and left very early 
in the morning, so as" to ride in the cool air, as 
was invariably my custom. Passing through a 
dense forest of low ground, about a mile in 
width, I met a man on foot with a heavy stick 
of unusual length in one hand. The sun was 
jnst rising, and as I approached him, he said, 
in a very respectful manner — 

"I will speak to you a moment, if you please, 




I rode so near as to touch him with my left 
leg, and said meekly — 

"What do you wish to say, sir?" looking him 
(rather searchingly) full in the eyes. He replied 
he had not a cent in the world ; had heen with- 
out a mouthful of food for twenty-four hours; 
was turned out of a house the evening "before 
hy some drunken fellows, who pretended he was 
distributing abolition tracts, and asked me to 
give him means to procure a "breakfast. 

I saw at once there was no evil design in the 
man, and I gave him a dollar, which happened 
to he convenient in my vest pocket, the smallest 
and all the change I had ahout me. He thanked 
me kindly, and requested to know my name and 
residence. I gave him the information asked 
for, and added, to his astonishment, this advi?e — 

"That so long as he was in Mississippi, never 
to stop a stranger at such a time and in such 
a place again." 

"Why, sir?" he startingly asked. 


cc Because/' said I, " nine times out of ten 
you'll be shot if you do." 

We parted, but we met once more, some years 
after, under different circumstances ; which meet- 
ing I may give an account of before I close my 
" Scenes in the South." 

On my arrival at Raymond, I mentioned my 
adventure at the breakfast table, when there Avas 
a unanimous opinion expressed by the whole 
number present that they would have shot him! 
I astonished all by saying with a smile — 

" That had I been disposed to shoot him, I 
could not have done it, for I had never carried 
a weapon of any kind in my life !" 

Just previous to that time, Phelps, the cele- 
brated robber and murderer, was shot by the 
sheriff of Warren county at Vicksburg. He 
was condemned and sentenced to be hung ; and 
on being taken out of prison for that purpose, 
had, with an iron bar to which his handcuffs 
were attached, bid defiance to the whole as- 
sembled multitude, and was steadily moving off, 


swearing he ivould not be hung! No entreaty 
had any effect on him, and most reluctantly 
the kind-hearted, humane, and generous sheriff, 
Stephen Howard, was, by his official obligations, 
compelled to shoot him. Thus died one terror 
of Mississippi! There were numerous robbers 
and gamblers, closely allied, at that time in that 
State. Murrell's gang had just been betrayed 
or exposed by Stewart; and nearly all persons 
went armed completely. I was almost a solitary 
example of exception, and I have never regretted it. 

I went to Jackson, attended to my business, 
passed through Madison county to Yazoo, where, 
after witnessing several strange events, I left for 
Yicksburg, by land; again crossing Big Black, 
through Madison and Hinds, and after numerous 
adventures, during two days and nights, reached 
that city the day after the five gamblers were 
hung, and while they were yet suspended on the 
gallows. What a scene! and what terrific ex- 
citement did I witness. 

A long and faithful history of that awful, but 


absolutely necessary transaction was written by 
me — submitted to tbe inspection and revision of 
two most estimable gentlemen who were deeply 
interested — and published subsequently in the 
Natchez Courier. It was republished throughout 
the United States, and months afterwards I found 
it entire in a London paper. If ever respectable 
men on the face of this earth had an excuse 
for committing wholesale murder, the citizens of 
Vicksburg had one. Murderers, robbers, gam- 
blers, thieves, and incendiaries had congregated 
and associated in that place to the number of 
(supposed) one hundred and fifty. They had defied 
the laws of God and man ; they had scouted at 
virtue, modesty, and decency ; they went doubly 
armed, and murders or outrages were perpetrated 
daily and nightly, openly and brutally. 

A female of respectability risked insult every 
time she dared venture into the streets, and re- 
dress was out of the question. If husband 
father, or brother, presumed to call one of them 
to account, the pistol or bowie-knife were in- 


stantly used with a disgusting bravado of certain 

Many young men, and too many older ones, 
were seduced or enticed (to their shame and dis- 
grace) into the haunts, "the hells," of the vil- 
lains, and swindled, cheated, fleeced, robbed of 
their all. Those acts and deeds had continued 
"till forbearance ceased to be a virtue," and 
after various conciliatory means to prevail on 
them to leave the city had been tried and failed, 
more stringent ones were attempted, when Dr. 
Bodely, a most worthy and valuable young man, 
was shot dead at the door of the principal and 
most notorious gambling establishment. 

It was on the fourth of July; the volunteer 
companies were on parade, and on hearing of the 
murder of Dr. B., the unequaled excitement was 
allayed by the hanging of the only five miser- 
able and unfortunate wretches that were caught! 

I am not "fond of blood and carnage;" but 
after a lapse of nearly seventeen years, I am 
yet of the opinion that the numerous, extraor- 


dinary, diabolical, and villainous outrages com- 
mitted by the gamblers and their associates in 
Vicksburg, justified (if any tiling in the sight of 
God could justify such an act) the citizens of 
that place in thus ridding themselves of a most 
intolerable pestilence and deadly nuisance. I 
am naturally opposed to intemperance in all 
things, and deserve no credit, perhaps, for my 
habits, for I have made no sacrifices to possess 
them ; but I do conscientiously believe that gam- 
bling, drunkenness, gluttony, tobacco and opium 
chewing and smoking, are useless, and when in- 
dulged in long, ruinous to the health of the 
victims, expensive and destructive, and the worst 
evils that curse society. 


The recklessness of disposition caused by in- 
toxication is, alone, without the generally hor- 
rible consequences, quite a sufficient inducement 
for the friends of temperate habits to exert 
themselves in favor of exterminating from de- 
cent society the poisonous fluids which so often 
lead to ruin when used to excess. I am not 
fanatical in my opposition to the use of liquors, 
but to the abuse I will not "give an inch;" and, 
in my opinion, the filthy, disgusting, deleterious, 
and expensive use of tobacco and opium is but 
little better. How a man, with saliva oozing 
constantly from his mouth, befouling his chin 
and bosom, spitting on all around him, or eject- 



ing a cloud of pestiferous smoke, almost enough 
to suffocate decent persons in his vicinity, can 
dare presume to lecture another for taking a 
glass of wine, or a drink of brandy and water, 
is beyond my comprehension; for the latter can 
be done without offending, soiling, or disgusting 
your associates. 

On my way to Yicksburg, in the summer of 
1835, when the thermometer was ninety degrees, 
and no ice to cool the tepid and muddy water, 
after I had drank several glasses, still thirsty 
and almost sick, I walked into the bar-room 
and asked for some brandy ; for, in my opinion, no 
addition whatever could make the water worse. 
I prepared a glass, and as I was in the act of 
raising it to my lips, a man, dressed in a suit 
of dingy black, with a bloated face, evidently a 
confirmed, long-established rum-sucker, stepped 
up to me, with an enormous quid of tobacco in 
his mouth, the bosom of his shirt literally cov- 
ered with the saliva which was then dribbling; 
from his mouth, from which was issuing a most 


fetid breath, and impertinently addressed me, 
an entire stranger: 

"Well, sir, I should have thought better of 
you than to see you set such an example in 

I drank my unpalatable mixture, and look- 
ing at him as mildly as possible under the cir- 
cumstances, replied: 

"I may be wrong, sir, in drinking thus 
openly, as far as the example goes, and per- 
haps it would have been better to have done it 

My remark was lost, or there was no spot on 
his face that could be more highly colored by a 
blush, and I continued: 

"When a man feels it his duty to correct an- 
other for a bad habit, he should not exhibit, so 
palpably, the positive effect of a worse one in 
his own person." 

I felt provoked, and led him gently, by the 

arm, in front of a mirror, and pointing to it, 




" With such a face and such a bosom , a 
lecture on temperance comes from you, sir, with 
a bad grace. Perhaps, you understand me?" 

He replied, " I am a minister of the Gospel, 
sir; and, surely, you did not mean to insult 

I was rather mortified and astonished, but 
felt the more disgust towards him, and said, 
rather bitterly — 

"I beg your pardon, sir, and assure you, that 
but for your information, I never should have 
suspected you of being one of God's messengers 
on this earth," and bowing, I left him alone in 
his glory. He was evidently more than half- 
drunk before we reached Vicksburg, but he cer- 
tainly did not set a bad example, by drinking 
in public as I did! 

Poor D had, at last, one more horrible 

frolic, and died not long after, in Natchez. I 
happened to be at his death-bed, and witnessed 
the sure and fatal effects of intemperance. He 
was well known in Upper Mississippi, for utter 


recklessness when drunk, which, unfortunately, 
occurred too often. 

Nothing has been more unaccountable to me, 
from my boyhood, than the most extraordinary 
propensity many persons have to indulge to 
excess in the use of intoxicating liquors. 

Some of the greatest men of the age and 
country, with colossal minds and Chester fieldian 
manners, have become the victims of intemper- 
ance, and have died, degraded and debased to 
the level of brutes! Men, whose gifts and ac- 
quirements might have enabled them to eclipse 
the brightest luminaries of the literary and 
scientific world, have drank themselves into in- 
significance and contempt, and have been buried 

The opium and tobacco chewers and smokers, 
are, indeed, but little above the intemperate im- 
bibers of alcoholic liquors, and have no more 
reason or excuse for their disgusting, filthy, dele- 
terious, and expensive indulgences. 

The ladies, (God bless them and preserve them 



forever!) the ladies should set their faces and 
raise their hands and voices against the use of 
tobacco as well as liquor. They can do more 
than temperance societies. The pure and holy 
ministers of Christ should set the example, and 
preach against the use of tobacco, and against 
gluttony , too, as well as liquor; and let me close 
this article by saying, most emphatically, that I 
look upon gluttony as the most beastly and inex- 
cusable of all vices, and fully as injurious to 
health and happiness as any other. 
"Be temperate in all things." 


I had but just left my temperance lecturer, 
when a noisy row attracted my attention towards 
the head of the "boat, and curiosity led me 
that way. As I stepped out, I saw three men in 
the act of shoving a horse overboard. He was 
saddled and bridled, and had a pair of saddle- 
bags, well filled, secured to the saddle by the 
stirrups being drawn through the loops. There 
were no guards or railing, and the job was not 
difficult, for overboard the poor horse went, with 
a grand hip, hip, hurra! chorus. I looked on, 
perfectly astonished, heard the unfortunate owner 
of the horse abused — Heaven knows for what — 

and threatened that if he made a fuss, ho would 

7* 11 


be thrown after the horse! Among the high- 
handed operators in the cruel and inexcusable 

act was a man named W. D , well known to 

me, who was notorious for his recklessness when 
indulging in his too frequent drunken frolics; but, 
when sober, was a kind-hearted and honorable 
man. He had been talking to me in the most 
kind and friendly manner, some time before he 
commenced drinking, and told me he had a large 
amount of money with him ; but he was then 
so very drunk that I thought it best not to say 
anything to him. The unfortunate man who 
owned the horse came to me, crying; said he 
was from the western part of Georgia; that all 
his money and all his clothes, except what he 
had on, were in his saddle-bags; that the horse 
and contents of the bags were all his earthly 
property; that he was on his way to Arkansas, 
where he had some relatives, and what to do he 
knew not. I was reflecting what -to do or say 

to help the poor fellow, when W. D , as 

drunk as he was. noticed him in conversation 


with me ; and, staggering towards us, said to 
me — 

"Send that d d fool to bed, and tell 

him to be quiet and stop his blubbering, or by 
G — d, I'll have him thrown overboard to follow 
his horse." 

The Georgian moved off instantly, and for 

several hours I heard no more of him. D 

reeled away to the cabin, tumbled in a berth, 
and I took a seat very near him. He soon dropped 
into a heavy sleep, and I believe his associates 

followed his example. D slept some time, 

and, on rousing up and seeing me, said : 

"Hilloa, C , what are you doing here!" 

"I have been waiting for you to ivaJce up" 
said I, "to give you a good scolding. " 

"What for?" he asked, apparently nearly 

"Why," said I, "have you no recollection of 
throwing a poor man's horse, saddle-bags, money, 
clothes, and all he had on earth, into the 


"Did I?" said he, rubbing his eyes and 
raising himself up, " Well, by G — d, I wonder 
I didn't throw him in, along with his plunder! 
Where is he? Go and find out how much he 
lost, and what he thinks his goat of a horse 
was worth. I had no idea of hurting him, but 
when I cursed him and his horse, the damned 
fool cried like a whipped schoolboy, and the 
boys and I shoved his horse overboard, just be- 
cause he cried." He then handed me a large 
and well stuffed pocket-book, saying, " Pay him 
all you think, or all he says he has lost. You 
will find about eleven thousand dollars in that 
book. Satisfy the poor devil, and tell him to hush 
crying;" and then, as calm as a "summer's 
morn," laid down to sleep again. 

I soon found the poor Georgian, who was still 
in tears. 

"How much money did you have in your 
bag?" said I. 

" Sixty-three dollars," he replied. 

" How much were your clothes worth ?" 


He hesitated a little, and said, "May-be, about 
tliirty dollars." 

"What was your borse worth?" 

"Well, I reckon," said he, "nigh upon seventy- 
five dollars." 

"Then," said I, "will two hundred dollars 
make you whole, and satisfy you entirely?" 
He saw me open the pocket-book, and saw the 
bank notes, when a total change came over him. 

"Oh, yes, sir-ree, bob-tail horse-fly," he fairly 
shouted, jumping up and knocking his heels 

I handed him two one-hundred dollar bills, 
and told him who gave it to him. He took them, 
but further speech was denied him — he was dumb. 

I left him, and returned to D , who was half 

dozing. When I told him what his frolic had 
cost him, he poured three or four terrible curses 
on tho Georgian, and said: 

"Is that all?" and, looking into his pocket- 
book, took a fifty-dollar note, and insisted that I 
should add that much more to the amount, and 


tell him, u Never to cry again; and that if he 
would return in the boat, and stop at Dr. 

C 's plantation, he might get his horse 

again, as well as his 'plunder.' " 

I delivered the money and the message to the 
happiest man I had seen in many a day. We 
parted at Vicksburg, and I have never heard 
more of him. 



When I first reached what was called the 
"new purchase/ 7 in Mississippi — a very large 
tract of the hest cotton land in the State — the 
settlers were "few and far between,' ' and gen- 
erally poor squatters. The harmless and inoffen- 
sive Choctaws were still there; and living, to 
travelers in those regions, was rude indeed. 
Log cabins afforded almost the only shelter; 
and, perhaps, in a whole day's ride through 
an open wilderness, you would not meet with 
more than two of tfhose. The most miserable 
apologies for beds sufficed for the hardy pio- 
neers, and the worst and simplest furniture was 



only to be seen. Seldom was a decent or edu- 
cated female to be found; and the negro women 
were generally ignorant of house-work, for the 
first taken into that country were only accus- 
tomed to field labors. To one fresh from the 
comforts and luxuries of life in the Atlantic 
States, the change and contrast were awful. 

But few, indeed, of the early settlers gave a 
thought to gardens or vegetables, and their food 
was coarse corn-meal bread, rusty pork, with 
wild game ocasionally, and sometimes what 
was, most slanderously, called coffee, without 
milk or cream, and often without sugar. In my 
journeys, if, perchance, towards nightfall, I espied 
a cabin, with a vine, shrub, or flower cultivated 
about it, I knew a female was there, and my 
heart would throb with joy, for I knew that 
such things always indicated a little better fare 
than usual. If no such evidence presented itself, 
gloom would settle upon me, and I would strug- 
gle hard to bear the sufferings I knew were 
awaiting me. 


One evening, late in autumn, (after riding 
many miles without seeing a hut or human 
being,) while yet in the forest, and darkness be- 
coming visible, I heard the barking of a dog, 
and then the lowing of a cow. A few minutes 
more brought to my view a cabin, for my horse 
pointed his ears and quickened his pace, as 
much delighted at the barking and lowing as my- 
self. As I approached, I saw a woman milking 
a cow ; and one calf, in a small pen, near. I 
knew not whether the woman was black or white, 
but I addressed her in a very respectful manner, 
and inquired for the road to some little ideal 
embryo city I had understood was in the neigh- 
borhood. She answered, 

11 You're in the road, now; don't you see the 
blazes in the trees?" without raising her head. 

"How far is it?" said I. 

" Nigh upon twelve miles," she replied. 

"I cannot get there to-night; I could not 
follow the blazes through the forest, after dark," 
I said, half-musingly. "Who lives here?" 


"I do," sftid she, "sich livin* as tit," 

a You are certainly not alone?" said I. 

"No," she replied, "looking up at me from 
her milking for the first time. 

I saw she was, or had been, a white woman, 
coarsely clad, and browned by exposure, till she 
was nearly as dark as a Choctaw squaw. 

"My dear madam," said I, "could you give 
me shelter to-night, and furnish me with food 
for my horse ; I am quite fatigued, and my 
horse more so. I will pay you liberally, and 
thank you, indeed, most kindly." 

" Well, I dunno," said she; "some mighty 
mean people pass here sometimes; but we haint 
got much to steal, and you don't look like you 
had so much badness in you. You can light and 
rest till Sam gets home ; he went out to shoot 
some meat 'bout an hour ago, for we haint got 
none in the house, and I heard the crack of his 
rifle as I was comin' to the cup-pen," (cowpen) 

I thanked her, and gladly dismounted; led my 
horse to where I saw a pole on the ground, 

ho:pitality of first settlers, etc. 87 

with a primitive bucket tied to one end, near a 
hole in the yard, in which was a good supply 
of very bad water; helped my horse bountifully, 
drank out of the same vessel myself, and went 
to the front door of the cabin, where I took a 
seat on a block of wood. My horse followed 
me, and no doubt was thinking as seriously of 
his fare for the coming night as I was. The 
weather was rather pleasant, a little cool; but 
with my saddle-blanket, a very large, old fash- 
ioned cloak and saddle-bags, I knew I could 
prepare a comfortable "lodging on cold ground," 
if under a shelter, for I had slept thus in a 
cane-brake, sheltered by their bushy tops, and on 
that score I cared but little. I had learned to fast 
for twenty-four hours without the least inconve- 
nience, bat my horse had not learned any such 
lesson; and he told me, as plainly as a horse 
could tell me, he wanted his supper. 

At that moment a shout was heard, and my 
landlady, who was in the cabin, exclaimed, joy- 


11 There's Sam, and I know he's got meat 
for he never hollers when he liaint got none." 

Sam soon made his appearance ; a stout, hardy, 
weather-beaten young man, and threw down 
the hind quarter of a fine, fat deer, carelessly 
wrapped up in the skin. 

"There's the idee," said he, "first-rate and a 
quarter over; that's the way to tell it. Hilloa! 
how de do, stranger?" offering me his brawny 
hand in the kindest manner, which I shook 
with hearty good will, requesting his permission 
to remain during the night. 

""Sartin, shure," he replied; "never refuse a 
bite or a part of my cabin to a stranger, so 
long as he is civil. I'll take care of your horse; 
I've got plenty of corn, fodder, and pumpkins" 

I followed him, with my horse, to where a 
trough, rude and rough enough, was resting on 
two strong wooden forks, firmly driven in the 
ground, to one of which, with the halter, I 
secured my horse; and then, Sam taking a 
basket, we went in a small field adjoining, where, 


with the yet existing twilight, we gathered ahout 
twenty ears of Indian corn, perfectly dry and 
hard. Sam shouldered a pumpkin of goodly 
size, returned to the trough, where, after break- 
ing the pumpkin into numerous pieces, they, 
with the corn, were placed in the trough, to 
the great delight of my hungry horse, who was 
a Tennessean, and quite up to corn and pump- 
kins. Sam dissappeared while I was congratula- 
ting the horse on his hright prospects, hut in 
a few minutes returned with three large bundles 
of corn fodder, (corn blades cured in the sun,) 
which he threw down near enough, saying — 

" There, old hoss, is a chance to feed for 
one night ; help yourself, and go ahead, steam- 
boat." Then, turning to me, said, "Come in, 
stranger, your hoss will do." 

We walked towards the cabin, and, seeing 
his wife, said — 

" Sally, spread yourself, gal, and see what you 
can do towards supper; I'm a-s hungry as a 


panther, and I reckon this stranger aint much 
better off." 

"I'm about; alters on hand," said Sally, who 
had already a rousing fire; had cut at least 
four pounds of the venison into beautiful slices, 
and was on her way for water. 

She soon returned, and I was delighted to see 
how carefully she washed, salted, and laid it on 
a clean wooden tray to drain. She then took 
from a keg about a half gallon of meal, sifted 
it, poured boiling water on it, threw in a little 
salt, made it up into small pones, wrapping 
each very carefully in the inner shucks of corn, 
fresh from the ear, scraped away the embers from 
one corner of the ample fire-place, laid them 
down and covered them over deeply, with hot 
ashes and embers. In a few minutes the lid 
of an old pine chest was decently prepared 
as a table — three plates, three pint bowls, 
clean, but a little cracked, and good, strong 
knives and forks. The venison was then quickly 
and artistically broiled, on an old (but clean) 


gridiron that had seen trouble, then Left near 
the fire to keep warm in a deep plate; and 
in a very short time the corn cakes were drawn 
from the ashes and unrolled — done to a turn — 
the bowls were filled with milk, and all of this 
was accomplished speedily, without " noise or 
confusion." We drew our stools as near the 
chest as our knees would permit, and the havoc 
commenced. The venison was fat, juicy, and 
tender, the bread was sweet and good, and the 
milk above suspicion, "pure as the snow on 
the mountain's brow." There was a meal that 
Heliogabalus never dreamed of! And I now 
affirm that no Koman epicure of them all ever 
enjoyed a luxury (at whatever expense it was 
procured) more acutely than our humble but 
happy trio did this rich but simple petite 
souper. I was really happy, and u courageous 
and refreshed for future toil," and praised Sally's 
cooking "very extensively;" to which, malgre my 
temperate habits, I did ample justice indeed. 
I congratulated Sam on the possession of such 


a valuable wife, and made them both feel quite 
contented with themselves. About nine o'clock 
I walked out to see if my horse was as much 
pleased with his supper as I was with mine, 
and found the happy fellow still luxuriating on 
his pumpkins and corn! 

The moon was up, clear and bright. The sky, 
the stars, the forest, and all of heaven's creation 
then in view was the picture of beauty, tran- 
quillity, and happiness. Nothing could have 
looked more serene and lovely since Eden's 
early bloom. 

I returned to the cabin, and heard a debating 
about my lodging. Sam and Sally had both 
resolved that I should occupy their only bed, 
but I firmly opposed it, and prepared my pallet, 
instantcr, myself, which settled the difficulty. 

I took off my boots, coat, vest and stock, and 
' c laid me down to sleep." My worthy entertainers 
were quickly in bed and snoring, as none but 
laborers or gourmands can snore. In defiance of 


the unmusical concert, fatigue weighed down my 
eyelids, and I, too, slept. 

About two o'clock, (the moon was high and 
brilliant,) a scream, such as I had never heard 
before, more like a female in the death-struggle 
from sudden violence than anything else I could 
imagine, yet loud, shrill, and strong, startled 
all three of us to our feet. The fire yet gave 
some light, and in an instant Sam had his rifle 
and was wide awake. I had heard the Indian 
war-whoop, but I knew the Choctaws in that 
country were harmless and peaceable, and I in- 
quired what noise that possibly could be. 

"Why, it's a tarnal panther, and nothing 
shorter/' said Sam, a after my calf." 

And then, opening the door cautiously, he 
stepped out. I followed him, and found my 
horse, terribly alarmed, near the door. He 
had broken loose, or rather torn up the fork 
to which I had fastened him, and was trembling 
from his head to his feet. The cow came 
running towards us, perfectly frantic. We 


heard the calf bleat, and the crack of Sam's 
rifle was almost simultaneous. Without moving, 
he commenced reloading. I saw the panther 
bound over the fence into the road, halt, and 
look back, and before I thought Sam was ready, 
the dreadful beast had the second ball. He 
sprang at least his length from the ground 
and fell. Sam did not move, but again began 
to load his good rifle. I stepped towards the 
fence, thinking the panther was dead. Sam 
shouted out, "Stop," and came towards me, 
ramming down the bullet. We then walked quite 
near the fence, which was low and open too, 
and Sam gave him the third charge, watched 
him keenly, and loaded up again, and then 
went to the fence. The panther was lying on 
his side, but struggling a little ; he was then 
within ten or fifteen feet of us, his head nearest, 
into which Sam lodged the fourth ball, and his 
race was run! We found the calf alive, but 
seriously injured, and returned to the house after 
pai tially composing the horse and cow. Sally 


had made up a fine fire — but there was no mare 
sleep for us that night. 

After daylight we went to look at the dis- 
turber of our slumbers, and found him dead 
enough. He measured within a few inches of 
nine feet from his nose to the end of his tail, 
and was fat enough for the butcher's stall. The 
flesh is often eaten by hunters, and is said to 
resemble mutton. 

I took a good breakfast — the very double of 
my supper — and left my worthy host and hostess 
in the most kind and friendly manner. 


When I left Sam and Sally and the mur- 
dered panther, near the Yallabusha swamp, I 
was on a cruise in Upper Mississippi. Holly 
Springs, then just bursting into existence, was 
to be the ultima thule of my adventures north, 
and then the head of my horse was to be turned 
to the dear sunny south again. 

I diverged to the right and left on my way; 
inquired, when I could, and examined into mat- 
ters and things generally, and the lands and 
cotton-producing prospects particularly. That 
evening I crossed Yallabusha river in company 
with a dare-devil sort of a fellow, who carried 

a greater weight of whiskey in his saddle-bags 



than shirts, and who was perfectly astonished 
that I would not take a drink with him at 
least every hour from his black bottle; but I 
persevered in declining, with great civility and 
many thanks. When we reached the ferry, a 
very fine looking young Indian was in charge 
of the boat. My companion asked him, rather 
rudely, "You Choctaw ?" I was looking earn- 
estly at the tall and graceful "son of the forest" 
at the moment. He grunted deeply, a la cocJion, 
and with a look, perfectly indescribable and never 
to be forgotten, retorted, " Choctaw, dam!" He 
pulled us across and received his pay without 
saying another word. I inquired of my spirited 
associate why the Indian thus appeared to look 
and express his contempt for the Choctaws. 

"Why," replied he, "that fellow I knew was 
a Chickasaw, and hated the Choctaws, whom 
he looks upon as cowards; and I wanted you to 
see him when he expressed his feelings towards 

The Choctaws were a quiet and friendly tribe; 


and they boast of never having "shed the blood 
of a white man;" with how much truth I know 
not. Among them have been known some few 
very superior chiefs. Pushmatahaw, who died 
on his way from Washington city to the home 
of his fathers some years before his tribe was 
removed west of the Mississippi, was a man of 
strong native mind, great weight of character, 
and particularly eloquent; but of the Choctaws 
generally, the best that can be said of them is 
that they were harmless, inoffensive, cowardly, 
lazy, filthy, worthless, and ignorant in the ex- 
treme. Often, very often, have I, on falling 
in with a party of them, exerted myself to get 
some information, but the full extent and the 
result of all my inquiries on any subject was 
the eternal u Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" Some of them 
were able to speak English so as to be under- 
stood, but never could I find one who could give 
me any vestige of a tradition in relation to the 
numerous and extraordinary mounds in their 
nation, as they always called their home and 


hunting-grounds. Those artificial mounds and 
hillocks are of various shapes and sizes, and are 
found in the swamps, the prairies, and forests, 
and no mark to designate the spot from which 
the ea»rth was taken to rear up such monuments. 

About twenty years since, one of those small 
mounds on the banks of the Yazoo river was 
opened, and, among other curiosities, was found 
the skeleton of an Indian, with an earthen cov- 
ering for his entire head, fitting closely round 
the neck, and baked as hard as the pots and 
pans, which were also discovered. A most 
worthy and estimable gentleman present, who 
had ordered the digging, resolved to send the 
remains, as found, to some museum; when an 
Irishman, employed by him in the operation of 
opening the sepulchre, without any notice what- 
ever, smashed the night- cap of the poor Indian 
into smithereens — exposing the skull, which was 
also broken by the blow. 

One lovely morning, while on this cruise, just 
at sunrise, my horse started so unexpectedly 


that I had like to have heen thrown. So soon 
as I recovered from the shock, I saw, not more 
than fifty yards from me, a number of deer — 
probably twenty or more. The country was an 
open, black-jack prairie, gently undulating. The 
grass was still green, and, perhaps, averaging 
eighteen inches high. The scene was really en- 
chanting. The beautiful and graceful animals 
stood looking round for a few seconds; then, 
throwing back their heads, skimmed and glided 
over their native pastures, like fairies on a bowl- 
ing-green racing by moonlight. I could see 
them occasionally when nearly a mile off. In 
ten minutes after, I saw together five more of 
those splendid creatures, and I cannot say how 
many wild turkeys I saw during that day's 
ride, certainly several hundred. 

Towards evening I saw a low, rude pen of 
round logs, and what looked something like 
iheep lying down around it. My curiosity was 
excited, and I left the trace, trail, or road (as 
you please, reader) to examine into the matter, 


and when within ten feet of one corner of the 
pen, I assertained that the lumps, or what I 
thought sheep, were Indians, doubled up on the 
ground, and covered entirely with their blankets. 
Within the pen were several little hillocks or 
mounds of earth — two of them fresh, the others 
covered with grass. I spoke kindly and friendly 
several times and, wondering, looked upon 
them, but could not and did not get a reply or 
notice of any description, when I left them and 
continued my journey. I very frequently de- 
scribed and inquired the meaning of the exhibi- 
tion, and was only enabled to get for explanation, 
that within the enclosure or pen were buried 
those Choctaws who happened to die thereabouts, 
and that annually certain friends or relatives of 
the deceased made a pilgrimage to their places 
of sepulture, and mourned their loss in that 
humble, lowly, and silent manner. There was 
something peculiarly melancholy and touching 
in the scene. No so and, no motion was heard 
or seen for the time, (and how long I know 



not.) All their hearts and souls and feelings 
were apparently given to the memory of de- 
parted friends and to the Great Spirit — the one 
mighty God of all creation. I have known no 
more beautiful and heavenly manifestation of 
affection and reverence for loved ones departed 
than this simple Choctaw devotion, save the un- 
equaled and most imposing respect and splendid 
evidences of remembrance shown in New Or- 
leans for deceased friends and relatives on All 
Saints' Day, 1st of November, annually, in the 
Catholic burying-grounds. 

Like other forgetful and garrulous old men, 
I am digressing as well as diverging on my 
way, n'importe, allons. After sleeping one night 
in the forest, and being without food for myself 
thirty-six hours, but with grass in abundance 
for my horse, and meeting various little ad- 
ventures during three days, I reached Holly 
Springs, about sunset, early in the month of 
October. On dismounting at a hotel, worn down 
by a long, hard ride, a "tall man" stepped up 


to me, and kindly offered to take off my saddle- 
bags, cloak, &c, as a servant came to take my 
horse. I was covered with dust, my limbs stiff 
and cramped from exposure to the dews and 
being so many hours on horseback. Indeed, I 
was almost inclined to think myself sick. My 
"tall" friend was decently dressed; and, as we 
walked into the bar-room, he handed my travel- 
ing comforts to the bar-keeper, and gave him 
my name, asking me immediately to take a 
glass of something to drink. I did not object, 
and as we touched glasses, he looked directly at 
me, and said: 

"You do not recollect me?" 

"I do not," I replied. 

"Well, sir," said he, "I have often thougnt 
of you, and, as you may have noticed, have 
not forgotten your name. I met you, some 
months since, not far from Eaymond, in Hinds 
county, Mississippi. I was on foot, unwell, 
without a cent; you gave me a dollar and some 
advice; do you recollect me?" 


"I do recollect the meeting," said I, "but 
should not have recognized you; and I am 
happy indeed to meet you again under better 
circumstances. " 

He then imformed me that he had been robbed, 
and was on the track of the robber when he 
first met me, penniless and wearied out ; but 
that after much suffering, he reached Natchez, 
where he met his brother, and there, most for- 
tunately, caught the robber in a gambling house, 
and forced from him fifteen hundred dollars — 
within three hundred of what was stolen. That 
from Natchez he went to Tenessee, purchased a 
drove of horses, with which he was then on his 
way to Yazoo county, where he intended to sell 
his horses and purchase land to establish a cotton 
plantation in company with his brother, who was 
then with him, and who owned a few negroes. 

I knew him well subsequently, saw him often, 
and the third year after he settled in Yazoo 
his crop of cotten was sold for a little over six 
thousand dollars. 


The pioneers were a rude set generally, but 
some few intelligent and courteous gentlemen 
were thinly sprinkled among them. They were, 
however, few and far between, like angel's visits, 
and when I met one, it was as refreshing and 
delightful as the appearance of an oasis in the 
Great Desert of Sahara would be to an unfor- 
tunate wanderer in that waste of sand. 

The manners and habits of the settlers were 
new and strange to me; their food was of the 
very coarsest description, and to add to the suf- 
ferings, I was daily reminded of the adage, 

that "God sends victuals, and the devil sends 



cooks!" for in all my previous life I had never 
fallen in with any cooking so villainous. Kusty 
salt pork, boiled or fried, " solitary and alone," 
like Col. Benton's ball, and musty corn-meal 
dodgers, rarely a vegetable of any description, 
no milk, butter, eggs, or the semblance of a 
condiment — was my fare often for weeks at a 
time. But little Indian corn was cultivated 
there in those days, and a great majority of 
the planters, large and small, obtained their 
supplies on the nearest rivers from the up- 
country flat boats, generally so much injured 
by the heat and moisture as to be unfit for a 
decent hog to eat. All the industrv was em- 
ployed in the production of cotton. 

Various "towns" were located (a favorite ex- 
pression in that section) in various spots; and 
the proprietors of all had not the shadow of a 
doubt (if you could believe them) that each 
and every one would, in a few years, contain 
a hundred thousand inhabitants, and that lots, 
seventy-five by twenty-five feet, would be worth 


at least twenty-five hundred dollars each; but 
time, a short time, dissolved, dissipated those 
illusions. Some of the embryo cities were re- 
moved by a single wagon to other "locations," 
which had their day, and were known no more 

Speculations in lands and negroes were of the 
most extraordinary character. Fortunes, in paper, 
were made and lost daily. A man would brag 
at breakfast, such as it was, that he had made 
fifty thousand dollars that morning, and at 
night would be without a dollar to brag upon, 
even on paper. Strange, queer, extraordinary, 
ludicrous, merciless, and inhuman acts and 
deeds were daily perpetrated. No man know 
when he was safe, and nearly all went armed^ 
prepared to defend or offend. 

I was among the very few who never carried 
a weapon, nnless a decent and very reputable 
hickory stick could be so called; and, as aston- 
ishing as it may appear, I have often had 
reasons for believing that the very absence of 


weapons from my person was my security from 
insult and injury. 

In the early part of 1835, one cold day, when 
quite a snow for that country was falling, I 
was compelled to take shelter for the night at 
a most miserable house, near the then equally 
miserable town of Satartia. A number of persons 
had passed me, or kept company with me on 
the road, for nearly all of us had crossed the 
notorious Big Black river and swamp that 
morning, some of whom informed me that a 
great race was to take place the next day, at 
the course near Satartia, and that some of the 
best horses in the State were to be competitors 
for large stakes. 

I was advised to stop at the house mentioned, 
where I might get something like protection 
from the weather, if nothing more, but that 
Satartia was full to overflowing. So, as advised, 
I stopped with a dozen others, just after sunset, 
where I found about twenty more already in 
the house, which had two small rooms and a 


narrow shed — the mere shell of a building — no 
ceiling or plastering whatever, and only one 
bed, which was occupied by a sick female; but 
there were three or four miserable apologies for 
cots, without blankets or covering enough for 
one. There was one large fire-place, capacious 
enough for ox roasting, and a rousing fire 

The miserable keeper of the establishment 
told us honestly those were all his accommo- 
dations; that he could feed our horses and give 
us the usual fare of the country, (well known 
to us all.) There was no option. We were like 
cats in a tripe shop: 'twas Hobson's choice — 
"That, or none;" for we were soon convinced 
that we could do no better in Satartia, as four 
unfortunates just rode up from that place to seek 
shelter with us. 

There was but one older man than myself in 

the crowd, which now numbered over thirty. 

I saw my horse as well cared for as possible, 

got a "bite" of pork and corn bread for myself, 


which I held in my hands till finished, and 
fortunately obtained a seat near the fire in one 
corner, and did not intend to quit it during the 

Some of the party early went into the shed, 
with their overcoats and horse blankets, where 
they endeavored to rest or sleep; but the ma- 
jority, having a fair supply of whiskey, resolved 
to "keep it up" all night, and nearly filled the 
room in which the fire was burning brightly, 
and kept well supplied with wood during the 
whole night. A small table stood on the floor, 
at which Jive of the " blessed and unterrified 
democracy" of the Union took seats to play 
poker. I had often heard the game mentioned, 
but had no idea of it, except that it was a 
gambling game, played with cards. They had 
not long been at the table when a violent quarrel 
took place. The words used were so particularly 
infamous and blasphemous, that I involuntarily 
looked round; and at that instant I saw a 
man snatch or grab a handful of bank notes 


from the table with one hand, and a pistol, 
near him with the other; and then I noticed 
several other pistols and bowie-knives on the 
table. The man nearest me sprang from his 
seat, caught up a stick or piece of wood, more 
like a stave than anything else, which was lean- 
ing against the side of the chimney or fire- 
place just before me; and, as quick as thought, 
turned and raised it, evidently determined to 
strike some one of the gambling party. I in- 
voluntarily raised instantly, and caught him by 
the shoulders in front, and pressed him with 
all my strength against the chimney, so as to 
prevent him from striking, but looked him kindly 
in the eyes, and beseeched him to desist. He 
spoke not, but gave me a look I can never 
describe or forget. I, however, held him firmly, 
though several loud voices exclaimed: 
"Let him go, sir. Let him strike!" 
And simultaneously I heard the clicking of 
several pistols as they were cocked. My back 
was to the table. I looked round, and there 


were certainly six or seven pistols pointed at 
me and the man against the wall, and as many 
bowie-knives uplifted and glittering in the fire 
light — making, altogether, a display, a scene, 
that I shall never forget, and never desire to 
witness again. 

I spoke to them as mildly as I possibly could, 
entreating them to put up their weapons. At 
that moment a voice exclaimed: 

" Stranger, let him go, and stand aside, or 
you will be shot." 

I quietly replied: 

"I will not let him go while he holds the 
stick; and if you shoot him now, you must 
shoot him through me." 

The fellow dropped the stick, and the only 
elderly man (before alluded to) present straight- 
ened himself up, and said, loud enough to be 
heard above all the " noise and confusion:" 

"Shut up, boys — end this fuss; the stranger 
aint acquainted with our ways — he means good; 
stop it all, and drink, friends." 


There was a little hesitation — silence — when 
one of the gamblers put up his weapons, and 
remarked : 

"It is all right; let it go. Jim was cheated 
when he intended to cheat. It was a fair fight; 
that's the row — let's all take a drink." 

The old man worked his way to me and 
offered his hand, which I took, as a tall young 
man came up, with some raw whiskey in two 
glasses, and said: 

"Here, stranger, you and father take a drink, 
and we'll all be friends." 

That liquor has always been my particular 
aversion, and I endeavored to beg off — told him 
I could not drink it, that it would make me 
sick. He looked astounded, and the old man 
again came to the rescue, saying: 

"Don't insist on the stranger's drinking, my 

And then, turning to me, said: 

"Just touch your lips to the glass, and say 

let's all be friends; that will satisfy 'em." 


I did so, and that scene was closed. 

The gambling was not resumed, but they 
must do something, for it was impossible to 
sleep, and they chewed tobacco, smoked Ken- 
tucky cigars, and spit till the floor was a puddle. 

The coming race now became the topic of 
conversation. There was no necessity for my 
talking, and I made, what is more valuable, a 
most patient listener. One of the party pro- 
posed that every man present should put in 
five dollars each to make a purse; and then 
write down the time that he thought the best 
horse would run a mile, and whoever came 
nearest, to receive the purse. All hands went 
readily into the operation. I was not overlooked; 
it would have been folly to hesitate; so I 
handed over my five-dollar note. 

I knew, indeed, but little about horse-racing, 
but I knew much of horses, and had heard 
enough to give me an idea of the fleetness and 
rime of running horses. 

As there was nearly two inches of snow on 


the ground then, the course next day, of course, 
would be heavy, whether the snow melted or 
not; so I wrote, as my time, "Two minutes." 
The man who handed me the paper whispered 
to me, and said : 

"Why, stranger, they are crack horses; one 
of 'em is Adam Bingerman's best-blooded colt." 

" Never mind," said I, "let it go." 
And as he turned from me I saw him put 
his thumb to his nose, and signalize an asso- 
ciate, saying, rather louder than he intended: 

"A dammed sucker." 

The old man by acclamation was made the 
the holder of the purse. 

The next day I met the persons with whom 
I had business, on the race-ground, and did not 
finish till the races were over. The sun had 
been shining from its rising, and rather warmly 
for the season. The snow was nearly gone, and 
the track was verry muddy ; and while engaged 
in arranging an account on the head of a bar- 
rel in front of a tent, the old man came tc 


wards me shouting, followed by ten or fifteen 
of my interesting associates of the past night; 
and, extending the purse, swore I was the win- 
ner, for the best horse was two minutes and 
two seconds in making the first mile; and no 
other except myself had put down over one 
minute and fifty seconds, and now said: 

"You will give us a treat." 

"Certainly," said I; "please take the purse 
and treat all you please to the whole amount; 
I am engaged, and I hope you will excuse 

"Hilloa, stranger/' he replied, "that won't 
do, no how; you must drink with us now; why, 
we can have the best French brandy here." 

I did not hesitate, for I concluded the best 
way to get rid of the matter speedily would 
be to indulge the crowd. I put up my papers 
and followed them to a liquor stand, where 
the far greater part of the purse was expended 
in less time than would be supposed. I was 
called upon for a toast by the fellow who ad- 


vised me to put down a less time than the 
two minutes; and looking at him so as to he 
understood^ with a smile I gave: 

uc The damned sucker!' and all his friends." 

There was a general huzza — they nearly all 

knew what it meant. It was taken good na- 

turedly — they all laughed heartily, and we 

parted in the "best possible humor. 


"While traveling in the new purchase, Missis- 
sippi, I often met with squads of Choctaws, and 
wondered at their apparent want of curiosity; 
sometimes I doubted their descension from Mother 
Eve ; for nothing whatever seemed to interest 
them except whiskey; and if they ever heard 
of Eve's eating the apple, contrary to Divine 
command, they would have said her punishment 
was deserved, for not mating cider of the apples 
and brandy of the cider, instead of greedily 
munching the fruit! Upon two occasions, how- 
ever, I heard a few words in addition to the 
eternal Ugh ! 

At a camp-meeting, near Shongalo, Carroll 




county ; the first, I understood, ever held in that 
region, there were present, perhaps, thirty Choc- 
taws, and a crowd of white persons, where from, 
no one (who had rode through the forests in 
their native wilds, as I had, without meeting 
with a single located democrat, sometimes, in a 
whole day's ride,) could imagine; but there 
they were, several hundred, with a goodly 
numher of females, and no less than five of 
those untiring circuit riders or missionaries of 
the economical and enthusiastic society of Metho- 
dists, who rival the primitive Christians in the 
earnestness and simplicity of their devotions, 
and never-exhausted exertions to make converts. 
Their labors and privations, their poverty and 
perseverance, deserve success. They surpass the 
early Catholic missionaries who accompanied Cor- 
tez, Pizarro, and other Spanish conquerors, to 
the New World — at whose head stands the great, 
the good, the pious Las Casas. The world at 
large knows not the value and importance to 
the human race of the labor of these holy men. 


There are some wolves in sheep's clothing among 
them, and, occasionally, bounds are wanted to 
the wildness or madness of their enthusiasm ; 
but, in the main, they do much good. May 
heaven's blessing be upon them! 

The preaching commenced quite early on the 
day I happened to be a spectator, as well as 
the poor Indians ; and, about 12 o'clock, under 
the ranting of a fluent if not an eloquent 
j)reacher, a number of those influenced became 
greatly excited, particularly the females. Many 
of them shouted loudly, clapped their hands, 
tumbled down, kicked, rolled over, jumped up, 
tore their clothes, and were apparently frantic. 
I turned from the exhibition to the Choctaws, 
who had repeatedly grunted, "Ugh! Ugh!" 
very near me; when one of them, with more 
feathers and paint on him than any other, 
looked at me rather cunningly for a Choctaw, 
turned his head back, opened his mouth, raised 
his hand up to it as if drinking, and, to my 
astonishment, said, audibly and distinctly, 


"Hoxie! Heep ivhiskee — too much!" 

"Hoxie," is Choctaw for drunk. My risibles 
were so strongly excited by the naive remark, 
that I felt it my duty to leave the ground, being 
compelled to admit that a simple-minded Indian 
could come to no other conclusion; for such 
conduct could only result from or be the effect 
of intoxication by spirituous liquors, or derange- 
ment of intellect from some other cause, pro tern. 

I have a great aversion to such excess, and 
would prefer the quiet and silent worship of the 
followers of George Fox to it greatly. God 
is not deaf, and heaven is not to be taken by 
storm ! Be temperate in all things ! 

Sometime subsequently I happened, on a Sab- 
bath, to be near where a Baptist meeting was 
to be held in Yazoo county, and, with several 
acquaintances, went to see the baptism of new 
converts in a well-known stream, called Wallok- 
chebogue. On our way we overtook a small 
party of Choctaws, who had been hunting, and 

their squaws picking out cotton for some time 


in the neighborhood, also bound to witness the 
immersion, of which they understood nothing. 

We were a little too late for the first scene. 
One of the sinners had been purified before we 
reached the spot, and the preacher and his fol- 
lowers were singing. One of the Choctaws, 
who spoke English enough to be understood 
tolerably well, inquired, with a little semblance 
of curiosity, the meaning of the ceremony, seeing 
several persons standing in the water and one 
thoroughly wet; when a member, (I believe he 
was a clergyman,) with much earnestness and 
patience, endeavored to explain it. The Indian 
at last appeared to understand that the belief 
was, on being dipped or covered all over in the 
water the believer was made perfect and holy — 
would sin no more, and could appear before his 
God, in the land of spirits, without fear of 
punishment: for all his crimes, and evil deeds, 
and thoughts, were thus washed out, and he 
would be the companion and brother of Jesus 
Christ the Saviour of Mankind! 


"Ugh! ugh!" said the Indian. "Me know, 
me onrestan, me bobbashela quick, too." 

At this moment another convert was led into 
the water. The clergyman, after the usual ex- 
hortation, prayers, and blessings, plunged him 
under, and as he did so, the now enlightend 
Choctaw threw off his blanket, sprang head- 
foremost into the stream, very near the man bap- 
tized, swam under the water till he reached the 
opposite side, (about thirty feet,) shook himself 
like a water-dog, plunged in again and rose 
alongside of the clergyman, gave another shake, 
and exclaimed aloud, looking up and raising 
his extended hands above his head, 

"Hell exshoio! Hell exshow! Jesus Christ 
and me bobbashela now. Ugh! ugh!" 

"Exshoio" is Choctaw for "gone," or "lost," 
or "done-over," and "bobbashela" is "brother." 

I did not laugh this time — my feelings ran 
another way; and I may be forgiven for thinking 
that following or complying with forms or cere- 
monies of any description, manufactured by man, 


would not, could not, make a Christian of hea- 
thenish or sinful materials ! It is the heart 
that must he washed, the soul that must he 
cleansed, the spirit that must he purified, hefore 
we are prepared to he called " bobbashela " by the 
Saviour of the World. Pure religion depends 
not on the outward performance of forms and 
ceremonies It is felt in the hearts of all human 
beings ; it is given to all creation ; it is from 
God alone. He places in the breasts of His 
creatures a sensation of devotion, a knowledge 
of His power and majesty, a thankfulness for 
His mercies, that is understood according to the 
intelligence allotted to each ; and, in their 
own way, however ignorant or enlightened, they 
honestly pour forth their gratitude, and entreat 
a continuance of His almighty love and pro- 
tection. And whether as Jew or Gentile, Ma- 
hometan, Pagan, or Christian, he performs all 
the rites and ceremonies as prescribed in the 
Books, He is void of pure religion whose heart 
is impure ! 


After eighteen months' cruising through this 
State, in search of good lands and pleasant, 
location combined, I settled on a plantation 
between Yazoo and Benton. Manchester, now 
" Yazoo city/' is on the Yazoo river, and Benton 
is the county-town of Yazoo. Once more will 
I enjoy the luxury of home, and make a paradise 
of this place, and have ever a warm welcome 
for the friends of other years who may come 
south in search of change, wealth, musquitoes, 
or alligators! 

The society is not yet so good in this vicinity 

as around Natchez, Yicksburg, and some other 

places, and yet there are a sufficient number of 
11* 125 


refined and intelligent families in the neigh- 
borhood to render it agreeable. 

Lawlessness is yet prevalent, as in all newly- 
settled countries. An instance of a man having 
murdered another in cold blood, and then seating 
himself on his victim's mangled body and en- 
joying a boisterous drinking song, chorused by 
his comjoanions, and encored until their savage 
natures were appeased, would have disgraced an 
Indian encampment. These scenes of horror 
are of repeated occurrence, but time will civilize 
this region; and, as a good and gracious God 
has timed all else, it remains with man alone 
to make this county a second garden of Eden! 



"Is there for honest poverty 

Wha' hangs his head an a' that? 
The coward slave, we pass him by, 
An' dare be poor, for a' thatl" — Burns. 

What a theme for poetry is the cc Pleasures 

of Poverty \" Yes, the pleasures, and blessings, 

and benefits of poverty are unknown, unfelt 

by the wealthy, and the ephemeral millionaire 

never dreams of them; yet they exist, are 

valuable and numerous. Poets have sung the 

" Pleasures of Hope" and the " Pleasures of 

Imagination," but the " Pleasures of Poverty" 

have been unnoticed, forgotten, and unsung. 



The poor man has his pleasures, his blessings, 
and his high hopes. He lives within himself. 
The fluctuations in stocks, exchanges, provisions, 
merchandise, lands, and estates, affect him not. 
Tranquillity and peace are his — the world is 
his! The sun shines and warms him as kindly 
and surely as the greatest noble of the land. 
The flowers bud, and bloom, and smell as sweet 
for him. The morning air is as fresh and 
sweet. His senses are as acute, yet no epicurean 
palate disturbs his hearty meal. He has nothing 
to fear and everything to hope. He is at the 
bottom of Fortune's wheel, and the slightest 
turn either way is sure to elevate him! How 
delightful are his prospects; how buoyant his 
spirits; how glorious his hopes! No treachery 
awaits him — no swindler locks him up! No 
Shylock watches his movements — no dun tracks 
him in his solitude or wanderings! No sheriff 
serves process on him — no constable taps him 
on the shoulder! The poor man is "o'er a* 
the ills o' life victorious!" 


The poor man ne'er has aught to save, 
Fires may burn and tempests shatter; 

No house has he, no ships, no slave 1 
He sees the waste, to him, no matter, 
He's whole beyond a doubt. 

Banks may fail, and stocks may fall, 
Cotton advance, decline, or stand still; 

Brokers, merchants, gamblers — all 
May tramp to Hades if they will; 
He's safe, and strong, and stout. 

He eats his crust, and drinks at will 
From Nature's pure unfailing spring; 

No indigestion, or doctor's bill, 

Ever troubles him — an' "birdies" sing 
As sweet for him as others. 

He never fears a footpad, 

Assassin, robber, midnight thief; 
But whistles on his way, right glad 

That of the happy he is diief, 

And does not fear his brothers. 

In poverty there are pleasures 
Unknown to men of wealth : 


No change of men or measures 
Affect the poor man's health — 
His appetite is good. 

The poor man has no hogs to feed, 

In cold and snowy weather; 
No cows at dawn of day to need 

Both time and food together, 

Through ice and frost or flood. 

Poor people live on hope, 

They never can be worsted; 
Emp'rors, Kings, the Holy Pope! 

Live in fear of being bursted, 
And blown to atoms ever. 

Oh, yes! there are pleasures 

In poverty beyond a doubt; 
For if come a change of measures, 

'Tis for the better out and out; 
Then let us grumble never. 

But this is not all. The literature of the 
world is indebted to poverty for the choicest 
gems of poetry, history, romance, and fancy' 


Poets and philosophers, artists and geniuses, from 
iEsop down, have reveled in the "halls" of 
poverty. But for the poverty of Goldsmith, 
the world would have never been blessed with 
the purest and most natural novel extant, the 
"Vicar of Wakefield," and the well-filled libraries 
of the wealthy would have liever known the 
beauties of his " Citizen of the World,'' "De- 
serted Village," " Animated Nature," &e. But 
for the poverty of Smollet, " Peregrine Pickle," 
"Eoderick Random," " Humphrey Clinker," &c., 
would never have delighted millions. The beau- 
ties of Otway and Savage would have never 
been known but for their misery and poverty. 

But for the pecuniary distress (poverty) of 
Walter Scott, volumes of his unrivaled works 
would never have been written. Poverty was 
the main-spring of action which caused the dis- 
covery and production of numerous valuable in- 
ventions of genius, that would otherwise have 
slumbered ages longer in oblivion. Poverty 

elicits all the energies of its victims, and forces 


them into value, use, and importance. Fulton's 
poverty produced the perfection of steam power 
application. Franklin's poverty and dependence 
in himself made him one of the greatest, most 
useful, and most valuable of practical men that 
ever lived. It gave to the world his wise 
ajmorisms, his great discoveries in philosophy, 
and his wonderful experience. Why, I could 
fill a volume with the pleasures, blessings, 
and rich productions of poverty. The poor are 
the producers of almost every good. Vive la 

"What tho' on homely fare we dine, 

Wear hodden grey, an' a' that ; 
Gie fools their silk, an' knaves their wine 

A man's a man for a' that! 
Thin tinsel show, an' a' that, 

The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 
Is king o' men for a' that!" 


When vows are at the altar given, 

And lips can meet in mutual love; 
Our hearts and thoughts are fixed on heaven, 

We have permission from above! 
Then sweet, oh sweet, the bridal kiss, 

Of fearless love and blest affection; 
No sigh can come to mar the bliss, 

No thought intrude to cause dejection. 
The hallowed kiss of innocence, 

The kiss that riches cannot buy; 
The kiss that dreads no consequence, 

The kiss that scandal may defy! 
The rapturous kiss, the bridal kiss! 

So chaste, so rich, so very sweet! 
"lis heaven's gift — angelic bliss! 

When hearts as well as lips do meet! 



That women are naturally more inclined to 
charity (in every sense of the word) than men, 
there is no douht. That females more readily 
sympathize with the sufferings of humanity, feel 
more acutely for the woes of others, and are 
ever more unhesitatingly prepared to relieve 
and attend to the afflicted than men, no one 
with my experience will question. 

In all countries and climes and nations, 

woman — heavenly woman — is full of kindness, 

love, gentleness, and charity. Mungo Parke 

found it in the interior of Africa; Captain John 

Smith felt its influence and owed his life to it 

among the wild natives of the American forest. 


WOMAN. 137 

Two hundred years ago, on the uncultivated 
banks of James river, an Indian girl., with 
native impulse alone to guide and direct her, 
threw herself in the way — risked her life freely, 
nobly, generously, kindly, to shelter a captive 
stranger from the death-blow of her father. 

There could have been no selfishness in such 
an act. She could have had no idea of reward. 
It was an ebullition of the female heart, warmed 
by the God of nature into instant exertion to 
prevent pain and crime. Such are the deeds 
of woman. Who in pain or sorrow ever ap- 
pealed in vain to woman's charity? What 
female ever closed her purse to the poor and 
afflicted, or refused a crust to the hungry sup- 
plicant? What cold and ragged child was ever 
turned away "cold and ragged" from the 
door — the comfortable home of a woman ? 

The widow's "mite' ; is ever ready. The 
woman's store is never closed. Oh, holy woman ! 
how very much am I indebted to thee! Far 5 
far, above all, thou must ever rank, my own 

138 WOMAN. 

dear mother, whose sheltering, tender, watchful 
love can never he forgotten! and my dear 
kind nurse, a slave, so intimately associated 
with my earliest recollections that they cannot 
he separated from her well-rememhered happy 
face, joyous laugh, and musical voice; for until 
I was nine years old she was almost a part of 
myself — my shadow and my protector when 
away from my mother. Sometimes I managed 
to escape for a few hours, but she certainly 
hunted me up. 

On one occasion, a most lovely morning in 
June, I dodged my good nurse and hounded 
away across the fields, in company with four 
hoys, (one of them black,) all older than myself, 
to steal cherries from an orchard belonging to 
an old widow lady, nearly two miles from home. 
I was unconscious of any absolute wrong in the 
expedition, and was persuaded by my associates, 
without difficulty, to join them. We were soon 
in the trees without permission. I was light 
and active, a most excellent climber for my age, 

WOMAN. 139 

and was soon on the topmost branches, among 
the finest cherries, as happy as a jay-bird. 
How long I had been helping myself I know 
not, but an unusual stir induced me to look 
below. I saw my companions hastening rapidly 
down, and at the same moment heard a shout 
from a well known servant of the owner of the 

grounds, Mrs. N . I held on quietly. 

The other boys escaped, and just then my nurse 
made her appearance. She soon understood the 

affair, and joined Mrs. N 's servant in 

scolding me for being engaged in such an ad- 
venture. I came down and started for home. 
The nurse enforcing her opinion of the deed, 
and insisting that my mother would be very 
angry, and that I would certainly be punished, I 
reached home in tears. My mother met me at 
the door; inquired what was the matter, and 
where I had been. The tale, the truth was 
told; and now for the punishment. She turned 
to the nurse, and in a manner not to be mis- 
understood, said: 

140 WOMAN. 

"Take J directly over to Mrs. N 's; 

see that he gets upon his knees to her, and 
begs her pardon, and promises never to be 
guilty of such a thing again." 

I did not perfectly comprehend the nature of 
such an operation; but I keenly felt I was 
wrong, and that something like deep degradation 
was to be submitted to as expiation. I knew 
there was no alternative; and away we went, 
my kind nurse and I, both in tears. 

What Mrs. N was to do I knew not; 

but an awful dread was upon me, and the nearer 
we approached the greater were my sufferings. 
This time I did not go through the orchard; 
and as we neared the house, in front, the old 

lady, Mrs. N , made her appearance en the 

piazza; and the nurse almost lifted me up the 
steps, saying in my ear: 

"Now, master J , do just as mistress 

told you." 

I dropped on my knees at the old lady's feet, 

WOMAN. 141 

burst into a flood of tears, and could but just 
make out to utter — 

"Oh, Mrs. N , I beg your pardon!" — 

when she caught me up in her arms, hugged 
and kissed me, I know not how often, carried 
me into her sitting-room, caressed and hushed 
me up; ordered some little delicacies brought 
for me; had a fine basket of cherries gathered 
for me to take to my mother, and told me, 
that whenever I wanted cherries to come and 
she would have them picked for me. There 
was a finale! For some time all was confusion 
in my mind — it was above my comprehension. 
Was that the way begging pardon was to end? 

I feared almost to leave for home, thinking 
that the threatened punishment awaited me 
there. However, I took leave, and was repeatedly 
kissed at parting, and charged with numerous 
good wishes and kind words for my mother, 
who, on my reaching home, merely asked the 
nurse if I had behaved myself as she directed; 

142 WOMAN. 

and on her replying affirmatively my mother 
called me to her side, kissed me, and said: 

"My boy, you should not have acted so badly 
this morning; but remember, as long as you 
live, that it is your duty to beg pardon of any 
and every person you may injure or offend in 
any way, and you must never fail to do it." 

I have never forgotten that lesson — the very 
first one impressed deeply on my memory by 

my mother, assisted by Mrs. N and my 

nurse, and the effect has never ceased its in- 
fluence on my actions. This was woman's teach- 
ing. Nature has most wisely made the female 
heart the home of all that is good and kind, 
and soft and sweet. No evil is placed there 
by Him who "rules the whirlwind and directs 
the storm.' ' 

Bad women are made so by worse men, who 
deceive, betray, and desert them, after trifling 
with and playing upon their warmest feelings 
and richest affections; and, when women become 
infamous, they owe it to man's teachings. 



"Auld nature swears, the lovely dears 
Eer noblest wark, she classes, 0, 
Her prentice han' she tried on man, 
And then she made the lassies, 0." 


I envy not that son of God, 

Who alone prefers to dwell ; 
I'd rather be beneath the sod, 

And take my chance for heaven or hell I 

I would not be a hermit, cold 

And chilly in a cave alone, 
No, not for Anas' heap of gold, 

Would I live and be alone I 

I'd rather be a slave and sold; 

Or be a dog to gnaw a bone; 
Or be a beggar poor and old, 

Oh ! sooner far than be alone ! 



Oh, give me something dear to love I 

(I have no wish for gilded throne,) 
Give me friends, oh God above I 

And never let me he alone! 



I was, in my early youth, carefully taught 
and soon understood the great importance and 
value of courtesy and gentleness of manner; and 
in my long, uneven passage so far through life, 
I have never, without previous absolute provoca- 
tion, deviated the hundredth part of a hair's 
breadth from a kindness of manner and perfect 
respect to all persons, high or low, rich or poor, 
black or white, in addressing them, or replying 
to a respectful application or question — it mat- 
ters not by whom made or put. This duty was 
enforced upon me when a child, and it has 

never been forgotten or neglected. 



There is nothing more painful to a sensitive 
mind than the knowledge that it is neglected, 
unnoticed, passed over, when a consciousness 
exists of having made a respectful, reasonable 
application, or asked a necessary question in a 
courteous manner. 

No man whose heart is in the right place, 
no Christian, when in possession of a little 
ephemeral power, clothed with a little brief 
authority, tricked out with an evanescent robe 
of honor, would look upon his fellow-worm, 
(uncovered with tinsel show,) as beneath him, 
and not deserving his notice. In this highly 
favored Union, such are the vicissitudes of life, 
that the high and low often and rapidly change 
places! And yet, poor human nature, such fan- 
tastic tricks are cut by some of our fleeting 
nobility (pro temp.) as often cause the meek 
and humble to shed the scalding tear of bitter 
pain ! The honorable, for the day, forgets his 
God, his duties, and his grave! You knock at 
his door in vain! You appeal to him without 


notice! You ask of him, through his satellites, 
and receive no answer! The lords of the land 
only, as his equals, receive his prompt attention! 
He dreams not who may he his equals on the 
next swing of the pendulum — the next flow of 
the waters! God only is great! Man, how- 
ever high in office to-day, is hut as the tiny 
insect which appears, crawls, is missed, and 
gone forever! And yet, in his short breathing 
time on earth, how much of agony, unneces- 
sarily, does man cause man for want of a 
small share of attention, kindness, courtesy, and 
gentleness of manner. 

A soft and kind word in reply, at the proper 
moment, uttered with gentleness of manner, 
might heal the wounds of a broken-hearted 
supplicant. Courtesy costs hut little, and its 
absence often causes much sorrow, pain, and 
distress. "Soft words turneth away wrath;" 
and when a favor is refused, if done in a kind 
and gentle manner, no sting is left behind to 


pain and rankle — no open wound is tortured 
and inflamed. 

The rudest heart, the roughest exterior, is 
won by courtesy and kindness of manner. A 
gentle expression of reply or recognition is 
never lost on any human being; and all domes- 
ticated animals not only understand but appre- 
ciate kind and gentle words. 

When a gentleman is respectfully addressed 
orally or by letter by a man, however humble 
his station in life may be, the applicant has a 
natural and inalienable right to a reply. It is 
a duty necessarily imposed on society, and should 
never be omitted or neglected where courtesy 
and mutual civility can only prevent numerous 

A man of sense and reason will ever address 

slaves or servants, civilly, decently, courteously, 

and reply to them in the same manner, and 

will never permit them to remain in attendance 

unnoticed. No taunt of superiority, no word 

of contumely from a gentleman, should ever 


reach, to wound the ear or pain the heart of 
an inferior, whose duties are faithfully performed. 
Orders and requests by those in power should 
ever be given and made in courteous and re- 
spectful terms. " Suaviter in modo fortiter in 

On my way to Charleston, S. C, in 1819, 
the stage stopped for the two passengers to dine 
at a miserable village near a branch of the 
Pedee. Quite a crowd of persons, apparently 
much excited, were around a small house two 
squares off; and I, with a little of Mother 
Eve's curiosity, walked towards the spot, and 
inquired civilly at first, without being heard or 
noticed; but on getting pretty near the house, 
I asked in a most kind and gentle manner 
what was the cause of such an assemblage. 
Before I received a reply, a man in the house 
opened a shutter about half way, presenting 
such a face as I never beheld before. There was 
fear, horror, crime, vengeance, hatred, almost 
everything vile, clearly exhibited in it. My 


heart melted at trie picture, and I approached 
the window with pity, compassion, and sorrow 
so evident in my manner, that the miserable 
man understood it — the whole crowd shouting 
to me to keep away, that he would shoot me; 
that he had murdered his wife, was armed, had 
defied the law's power, and that the sheriff and 
his deputy were then expected with an armed 
posse to storm the house and take him by 
force. I walked calmly to the window, looking 
directly in the poor wretch's eyes, as charitably 
and kindly as I possibly could. He had fought 
his way through the crowd but an hour before, 
had been much beaten and abused, and by 
great exertions got into the house and fastened 
himself in. As I placed my hand on the win- 
dow-sill, he softly said: 

"Stranger, they want to kill me; they want 
to hang me without knowing the truth/' 

I replied instantly, and without authority, of 
course : 

"Oh, no! certainly not — they are men; they 


will, I know they will, give you a legal and fair 
trial. They only wish you to submit to the law. 
Resist no more. When the sheriff comes, receive 
him kindly. Give me your weapons. I know 
nothing of what you are charged with, but be 
advised by me, and I know you will be treated 

The poor fellow burst into tears — caught my 
hand and kissed it, and exclaimed: 

"Oh, my God! you have spoken the first 
kind words to me that I have heard for months, 
and I will do as you wish." 

He immediately opened the door and I stepped 
in. No one attempted to follow me, and only 
one man in all that assembly uttered another 
uncivil or harsh word, for which he was re- 
buked instantly by several near him. The 
sheriff, alone, at that moment turned the corner, 
and saw me standing in the door with a pair 
of pistols and a large butcher or carving knife, 
just handed me by the murderer, who was near 
me, with the big salt tears rolling down his 


cheeks, and I not much better off. The sheriff 
addressed him mildly and feelingly ; and without 
another cruel, insulting, or harsh word, he was 
then taken quietly to prison. I was dressed in 
black, (not so common in those days,) and the 
first expression I heard, after leaving the house, 

"If it had not been for that preacher, Tom 
K would never have left that house alive." 


When looking on the fairy throng, 
We early meet the magic glance 
From woman's eyes in syren song, 
Or whirling in the mazy dance. 
How deep it strikes, how quick and strong, 

How thrilling to the heart it goes 1 
Oh! he who lives on love and song 

And woman's thoughts most surely knows. 
'Tis brilliant as the lightning's flash, 

And oh 1 as fatal sometimes too ; 
It kills us at a single dash, 

Or tells us — live, and love, and woo 1 



I know not how old I was, but certainly, 
when my father first lectured or counseled me 
on the indulgence of my passion or temper, I 
was very young, for he was not fully understood 
or comprehended until after frequent explana- 
tory discourses; and I distinctly remember how 
difficult it was for me to accord with him, not- 
withstanding, and carry out or comply with his 
advice or follow his instructions. 

I had a tit-for-tat disposition, but was not at 

all quarrelsome, peevish, fretful, or captious, 

and never was harsh or combative without a 

sufficient provocation, in my opinion; but I was 

sometimes punished and more frequently chided 



for my childish and boyish disputes and con- 
tests. My father impressed it upon me in a 
striking manner that I must not and that it 
was cowardly and mean to strike a boy who was 
younger and smaller than myself, however such 
boy might provoke, injure, or insult me. But 
when I earnestly yet naively asked him if a 
larger or older boy should strike or injure me 
what I was to do, he, perhaps without due re- 
flection, instantly replied: 

" Knock him down, if you can, with whatever 
you can put your hands on!" 

This instruction I understood, and did not 
forget, for it was to my unsophisticated mind 
perfectly natural, and savored of sweet revenge. 

I was, perhaps, eleven years old, at the country 
school near my childhood's dear home — my teacher 
a kind, pleasant, and intelligent Scotchman, who 
is ever remembered with pleasure. I was quite 
a favorite with the master and nearly the whole 
school. I was always dressed neatly, and had 
a passion absolutely for keeping myself clean. 


Nothing whatever annoyed me more than get- 
ting my clothes soiled in any way, and although 
I joined heartily in all the amusements and 
plays of the other boys, I ever avoided mud 
and dirt. 

One day, after a rain, we were engaged in 
some game or other, running about the ground 
and public road in front of the school-house, 
when a boy several years my senior, and much 
stouter and stronger, without any cause what- 
ever, threw mud on me — not much, but quite 
enough to soil my clothes and to mortify me. 
I remonstrated, and, under the circumstances, in 
a very mild manner; and to my astonishment, 
instead of expressing sorrow or regret, he caught 
me up in his arms in an angry manner, and 
swore he would throw me in a deep ditch near 
by. I struggled with all my might to get away 
from him. Nearly every boy present begged 
and entreated him to let me go. He approached 
the muddy drain; my face was close to his, and 

I saw evil intent in his eyes. I clung to him 


as if in a death-struggle, and looking firmly at 
him said, entreatingly — 

"Do not put me in." 

"I will," said he, and he lowered his head as 
he spoke, when I instantly caught his chin in 
my mouth, and as quick as thought my teeth 
were in contact with his jaw-bone, above and 
below. I shut my eyes, and no bull-dog ever 
gripped his victim with more savage tenacity or 
ferocity. He yelled aloud, screamed, and begged. 
I felt his blood running down my neck — it 
mattered not. The boys shouted and huzzaed. 
The poor devil fell on the ground, rolled over 
and let me go, but I only held the tighter to 
him and bit him the harder. I felt and knew 
"I had him," and that " sweet revenge" was 

The master came out, and the boys gave him 
a true version of the affair. He walked up to 
us, both on the ground. I looked him calmly 
in the eyes, still without loosening my hold or 
teeth. He stooped down, patted me gently on 


the head, and said, in his richest Scotch dia- 

"Loot him gang, Jamie, lad, he has gotten 
joost what he desarved, frae a' I can learn; an' 
Tse warrant he'll na' attempt till thraw ye i' 
the mud again.' ' 

I let go and rose up. My antagonist was 
humbled, absolutely conquered, and was laughed 
at by the whole school. 

I rather feared my father, and knew not how 
he might feel or act in consequence of my taking 
such signal vengeance on a playmate, though 
he was so much older and larger than myself, 
and had so grossly insulted and injured and in- 
tended further to injure me. But the good 
teacher saw my father before evening, purpose- 
ly, and gave him such a ludicrous account of 
the affair, (I learned subsequently,) that he 
laughed very heartily, and never said a word 
to me on the subject. 

The poor fellow carried the marks, the fair 
and full impression of my teeth on his chin, 


(above and below,) to his grave. And yet I 
cannot say that I ever regretted punishing him 
as I did. I never had any respect for him, 
and he always, so long as he lived, appeared 
ashamed or mortified to meet me; and after I 
was grown up, he never thought of attempting 
"till thraw me i' the mud again, I'se warrant 


Some twelve months or more after the above 
incident, I was at the academy in our county 
town, where there were about one hundred 
scholars. I was very active, a good runner, 
and expert at most of the games of amusement 
indulged in by the boys, and was always among 
the first chosen when making parties for any 

At bandy or shindy, one day, I was on the 
side opposed to a large boy, or almost young 
man — for he was live or six years older than 
me — and in a hard race for a ball, I was just 
in the act of striking it, when, to prevent me, 
he struck my foot rather severely. I lost the 


ball, but I gave him the blow with all my 
strength in his face. He reeled or staggered 
off ten or twelve feet, but recovered in a few 
seconds, and came angrily towards me, with his 
bandy raised. I stood as still and was as white 
and cold as a statue of Parian marble. I 
expected to be knocked down and severely beaten, 
but I resolved to strike once more if I died for 
it. He was bleeding freely from his mouth 
and nose, and when almost near enough to 
reach me, he suddenly stopped, threw his bandy 
down, and said, impressively : 

"No, I will not strike you, I was wrong 
when I struck your foot; I ought not to have 
done it, and I deserved the blow you gave 

I burst into tears, and could but just utter : 
"I am verry sorry I struck you so hard." 
He caught me by both hands, and said: 
"You are a good boy, I — I was to blame; let 
us be friends." 
I went to the pump with him. He washed 


and bathed his face till the blood ceased to 
flow, and I then accompanied him to his board- 

That man has ever been my friend since, and 
there is but one other in this wide world to 
whom I am more indebted for kindness and 
obligations when they were needed. I have 
loved him from that time as a brother. He is 
yet living. May heaven spare him many years 
of usefulness, generosity, and charity, free from 
pains and sorrows, and may all his declining 
days be peaceful and happy. 

These two adventures of boyhood present a 
striking contrast, and may be profitably com- 
pared and reflected on by the youthful of the 
present day. 

Boys should never injure or insult their play- 
mates — there is no necessity for it whatever 
They should exert themselves and struggle to 
forgive little misunderstandings and apparent 
wrongs and gaucheries, and passion should never 


be permitted to obtain the mastery in conse- 
quence of trifling difficulties. 

There are but few children whose parents do 
not often give them good advice, and nearly all 
the evils and sorrows that attend the young 
are caused by disobedience or forgetfulness of 
parental counsel. 


On! this world is light and green 
"When our hopes and joys are young, 

On the brightest side all things are seen, 
And far away all cares are flung. 

The sea is green — the leaves arc green — 
All is green and fresh and fair; 

It is always May, oh! lovely scene — 

Green fields — green things are everywhere. 

No spot is dark, in view no cloud, 
No thought to interrupt the truth; 

And lightly bounds the heart so proud 
In young and happy, careless youth. 

But age will come — the sight will fade, 

The green things dark appear; 


YOUTH. 1 6i 

When all things lovely God has made, 
Will dark and gloomy look, I fear. 

Then turn your thoughts to higher things 
In youth's gay, careless, happy hours; 

When there's a change, then time mil bring 
A crown of bright celestial flowers! 


My good nurse had at least one fault — a fond- 
ness for telling raw-head and bloody-bones sto- 
ries. I am sure she never had an idea of the 
least wrong in such an amusement, but the effect 
on me was a cruelty; for often have I gone to 
bed trembling with terror, and covered my head 
for fear of seeing something horrible. 

My father knew not that any fears of that 

description withered my heart; and one night, 

on telling me to perform some little errand for 

him, he noticed my hesitation or reluctance; 

and as I had always been taught and did obey 

him implicitly and immediately, he called me to 

him, and earnestly asked me if I was afraid to 



go alone in the dark, and if I thought he would 
send me if there was any danger whatever? I 
endeavored to get round the question, but tears 
filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks, and I 
made a full confession of my fears and the cause 
of them. My nurse was called, lectured very 
severely, and threatened with being turned out 
of the house if she ever again told tales or sto- 
ries to frighten me. She obeyed, for nothing is 
more degrading to, or considered a greater pun- 
ishment by, a good servant accustomed to the 
house, than to be turned out and put in the 
field under an overseer. 

But the effect of her nightly stories were 
deeply engraven on my heart, and for years 
when left alone in bed without a light I suf- 

My father reasoned with me, encouraged me, 
told me many anecdotes about the ludicrous dis- 
covery and exposition of what were thought to 
be ghosts. He convinced me that of all the 
ghosts ever said to have been seen or heard of, 


none had ever injured a human being; and then 
he said — 

" Should you ever see or hear anything in 
the night which you cannot understand with- 
out, go directly up to it, take hold of it, and 
my word for it you will not find a ghost." 

He then said to me "When Old Conestoga 
(a favorite horse) was about three years old, 
and as I thought tolerably well broken, I rode 
him one cold day down to the Sound, to shoot 
wild geese and ducks; and having been fortu- 
nate, I was out till after night ; but the moon 
was nearly full, and shining beautifully bright. 
On my return home I crossed an old field, the 
bridle-path through which passed very near a 
grave-yard, which had been neglected for many 
years. Conestoga suddenly started back, snorted, 
raised his head, and could not be induced to 
move forward. I coaxed, soothed, patted him, all 
to no purpose. I then spurred him sharply and 
quickly, but he reared up and still refused to 
go ahead, apparently much alarmed. I ceased 


operations for a moment, looked searcliingly 
around, and discovered something which I 
thought was a sheep between two graves, and 
heard at the same instant a low moan or groan. 
I knew that was what had frightened the horse. 
I dismounted and endeavored to lead him to 
the spot, but he was not to be led or driven. 
I took him a small distance in another direc- 
tion, fastened him to a sapling, and went up to 
the cause of my difficulty, when I found it was 
a man, and on taking hold of him to ascertain 
his condition, I recognized a poor drunken Irish- 
man, well known in the neighborhood for his 
dissipated habits. He had straggled from the 
main road, fallen where I found him, was 
asleep, and in all probability would have never 
lived to get drunk again but for Conestoga's 
fear of ghosts ! He was rather sober when I 
raised him up, but I had much difficulty in 
getting him home with me and quieting the 
alarm of Conestoga. 

"Now, my boy," said my father, " there's a 


Letter ghost story than you ever heard before. 
Don't forget it. If I had believed in ghosts as 
firmly as my horse, we should have both run 
away, left poor Paddy to freeze to death, and 
believed all our lives we had seen a ghost." 

That story relieved me greatly, and although 
I often had fears of ghosts and hobgoblins sub- 
sequently, my father did not suspect me, and 
ultimately my pride fairly conquered my fears; 
and before I was much older, however my fears 
operated, I never hesitated at all hazards to ex- 
amine into every cause of alarm that presented 
itself. Several queer and some ludicrous expo- 
sures were the result; and more than one rather 
strange adventure I could relate perhaps to ad- 

It is, perhaps, near forty years since, that, 
on a clear cold, star-light night in the fall, I 
had to gallant an elderly maiden lady home, 
who had been attending a sick female friend. 
Our way was by the old Colonial Church of 
the southern town in which I then reside.!. We 


passed the yard, (which occupied a whole square, 
in the center of which stood the sacred pile.) I 
saw her safely housed, and immediately left. On 
returning along the church-yard fence, which wa>* 
made of thick, heavy, pitch-pine plank, darkly 
painted, and placed horizontally ahout two 
inches apart — one of these interstices "being even 
with my eyes — I saw a tall figure, as of some- 
person with a sheet thrown over the head and 
hanging down to the feet, standing on a well- 
known tombstone, where reposed the remains of 
a man who was the friend of my boyhood, and 
whom I loved almost as my father. The tomb 
was not more than fifteen feet from the fence; 
and when I got directly opposite, I looked 
through the fence at the object composedly. It 
was then about 2 o'clock A. M. There was the 
figure, plain, distinct, and motionless. 

I rubbed my eyes, looked again; there it was. 
I was convinced it was no delusion. I deter- 
mined to know what it was and what it meant, 


if possible; and, mounting the fence quickly, 
asked, audibly and distinctly, 

"Who is that, and what do you mean by 
being in such a place at such a time?" 

No reply. I instantly jumped off the fence 
towards the tomb, exclaiming: "I'll know who 
or what you are," as I jumped. The figure 
leaped from the tomb on the opposite side, 
threw the sheet or whatever it was, from its 
head, and ran off over the uneven ground with 
a speed that bid fair to distance me, hallooing 
out — 

"If you hadn't known I was alive you never 
would have come into this church-yard. " 

After falling three times in the sunken graves 
and being fairly beaten, I gave up the chase; 
I knew the voice. It was that of a somewhat 
strange, stout negro woman belonging to a 
widow lady in the town. As she ran I threat- 
ened her severely, but I never found out why 
she was there, and to this day the extraordi- 
nary act is above my comprehension; but the 


ghost was " blown up;" the very pith and mar- 
row of the story destroyed by my exertion and 

It is almost impossible to prevent children 
from hearing tales or stories that frighten them, 
and the effects remain in some forever. Parents 
should guard against such things with constant 
care; the evil is great indeed, for I have often 
met persons, men and women of mature age, 
who had the courage to acknowledge their fear 
of ghosts, goblins, etc.; and among them was 
Captain Otway Burns, of the celebrated Snap- 
Dragon Privateer, who was so very gallant and 
successful in the war of 1812. He feared no- 
thing living ; no odds deterred or daunted him ; 
and yet, in consequence of his childhood im- 
pressions, he feared to the day of his death to 
be left alone at night in a room without a 

There is unmitigated cruelty in thus enslav- 
ing a child. I was certainly sixteen or seven- 
teen years old before my sufferings and fears 


ceased, although my pride for some years previ- 
ous enabled me to conceal them. 

From the time my father first lectured and 
reasoned with me on the subject, I struggled 
hard for freedom from the nightly terrors that 
distressed me. I was convinced beyond a doubt 
that there was no shadow of cause for my fears, 
yet so strongly and deeply were they impressed 
on my mind that the difficulty was not entirely 
overcome for many years; and often, when no- 
thing could prevent me from going in the dark 
on any purpose whatever, my sensation would, 
to say the least, be very unpleasant, and I 
would deeply regret the origin. 

Parents should question their children, and 
early remove the slightest impression of such 
fears; and nurses and associates should be cau- 
tioned against and punished if detected for 
telling ghost, witch, and raw-head and bloody- 
bones stories. 


Tis said that time can conquer pain, 
And sorrows, woes, and troubles; 

That time can peace restore again, 
And tranquilize life's bubbles, 

That boil and fret us -It 

'Tis said that time cures all the ills 
That life and flesh are heir to; 

That God for good his pleasure wills - 
And all receive a share, too, 

Before we're called aloft. 

'Tis surely true — then do not grieve 

AVhatever ills attend you; 
You'll be prepared before you leave — 

Yes, Heaven will befriend you 

Before you're called aloft. 



When stricken on one cheek, it is hard in- 
deed to believe it our duty to turn the other 
calmly and court a duplicate. But few have 
courage enough to practice this Christian virtue; 
for sinful human nature revolts at what is felt 
to be degrading and cowardly submission to in- 
sults and injuries as understood in nearly all 

Injuries may be forgiven and forgotten, but 
insults never can. Christ taught the forgive- 
ness of both. They are often forgiven but seldom 
forgotten by the sensitive sufferer. We should 
most sincerely pray that a desire for revenge or 

a feeling of malice should never remain for a 


moment in our hearts. No good can come of 
it. Nothing hut evil, sorrow, and regret, can 
ever follow an indulgence in such passions. A 
cold-hlooded nursing of enmities will generally 
end in violent crime of such magnitude that 
"purgatory may not expiate." 

Injuries from our fellows must he forgiven, 
if we hope or expect forgiveness from the God 
of Heaven, whom we are ever offending, whose 
commandments we are ever breaking, whose 
teachings we are ever disregarding, and whose 
punishment we ever deserve. No mortal can he 
perfect. There is none good hut God — there is 
nothing true hut heaven. 

When about ten years of age, I was attend- 
ing a school in the country near my childhood's 

home, in charge of a man named N , who 

was a low-bred and rather vulgar fellow, with 
much more presumption than education or in- 
tellect, and who often neglected his duties to 
enlighten his pupils, as he thought, by relating 
to them the heroic deeds and great wealth of 


his ancestors. One day lie was giving an 
account most minutely of a terrible fight with 
the Indians, in which he (at that time in his 
sixteenth year) and his father were engaged, 
The prodigies of valor performed by them, the 
number of "red-skins" killed and wounded by 
them, and the gaping tomahawk wounds re- 
ceived in return, had deeply interested all his 
juvenile auditors, when a little girl, always queer 
in manner, left her seat and approached the 
gallant warrior. On getting very near him, she 
attracted his attention, and with the utmost 
naivete asked — 

"Did'nt you get killed and scalped, Mr. 
N ?" 

From my early boyhood I never could resist a 
hearty laugh, when anything ludicrous, amusing, 
or witty was seen or heard; and I, with others, 
laughed outright. Silence was sternly com- 
manded, but another cachinatory explosion invol- 
untarily burst from me. I had ever been attent- 
ive to ray lessons; had never been reprimanded 


punished, or scolded by the master; and no boy 
in the school had been more diligent or better 
prepared for recitations or examination than I. 
Two days subsequently, on Friday, after he 
opened as usual his black book, as he called 
his record of offences, and after calling up some 
half dozen offenders and punishing them, to my 
astonishment and mortification he called me! 
I was perfectly unconscious of having been 
guilty of the slightest deviation from his rules, 
and I walked up calmly, looking him full in 
the face. 

"Take off your jacket, sir," said he, in the 
most brutal manner. 

"What am I to be punished for?" I inquired, 
quivering with sensations never felt before. 

"For laughing out in school, sir," he replied. 

Nature triumphed, and I buttoned up my 
jacket, looking "rattlesnakes" at him, without 
blinking or moving a muscle of my face; for I 
dared to think I did not deserve a whipping for 
that offence, if offence it could be called. The 


brute sprang from his seat, caught up five large 
beech switches, and scourged me cruelly, re- 
peatedly and loudly exclaiming — 

"Won't you beg, sir?" 

A relative in school, much older than I was, 
almost halloed out — 

"Why don't you beg, you little fool?" 

I would have suffered death first; and then, 
for the first time during the punishment, I 
turned my eyes from the master to my cousin, 
looking vengeance at him. No word, no cry 
of pain escaped my lips, and no tears filled my 

When the savage had sated his vengeance, 
or was fatigued with his exertions, he shoved 
me nearly across the room, where I fell. A 
sweet girl, several years my senior, helped me 
up, and without obstruction, walked out into 
the yard with me; burst into tears, folded me in 
her arms and kissed me! Up to that moment 
no sound had escaped my mouth — no feeling 
had room in my heart but vengeance; and in 


my soul I swore, if ever God gave me strength 
and opportunity, I would lacerate that man's 
back more severely than he had mine! Tears 
then came to my relief; the school was dis- 
missed, and my female friend accompanied me 
to my father's gate and left me. She yet lives, 
and I have never ceased to love her with the 
pure and holy love of a brother. 

My kind and good old nurse (who still at- 
tended to my clothes, and nightly assisted to 
undress me) saw how I was bruised and beaten, 
and immediately informed my mother, and they 
both had a hearty cry while washing and 
anointing me. My father was not about, and 
on his return some weeks after, I prevailed on 
my mother not to inform him of the outrage. 
Revenge was mine. My heart gloated in it, 
and I could not bear the idea that my father 
should participate ^n it; and I rather doubted 
or feared he would say my obstinacy in not 
begging deserved the punishment inflicted, for 

he was a strict disciplinarian. Time passed; 


left the county, and all others save 

me, perhaps, had forgotten my undeserved 

Nine years elapsed. Nearly half of them I 
spent in the city of New York, and returned to 
my native home, with vengeance still alive, and 
almost welling over in my heart. I inquired 

for N , and ascertained he was living in 

an adjoining county, ahout thirty-six miles off. 
Although my heart during the time had melted 
with charity and kindness a thousand times, 
there was that one dark spot yet in it; and 

whenever the memory of N passed over 

my mind, the desire for revenge was apparently 
strong as ever. I knew the neighborhood well 
in which he lived. I was strong and active, and 
in excellent health. I purchased a superior, 
new, keen cowhide, mounted my horse early 
one morning, and in the evening was at his 
next door neighbor's, an old acquaintance and 
friend of my boyhood. I asked all the neces- 
sary questions, and among other information, I 


learned that N had long been in bad 

health and was very poor. 

Immediately after breakfast the next morning, 
I walked over with revenge and malice yet in 
my soul and the cowhide in my hand. On 
nearing the house, I saw a person sitting in the 
front porch; and notwithstanding his squalid 
and miserable appearance instantly knew it was 
N , the intended victim of my long pent- 
up vengeance. As I approached him he looked 
very steadily at me, and attempted to rise, but 
fell feebly back in the chair, saying — 

"Why, isn't that J C ? Well, how 

glad I am to see you. Why, what a man you 
are grown to be; do take a seat. I have not 
heard from you since you went to New York. 
Do take a seat; you see I am not long for this 
world," extending his shriveled hand to me. 

If I had murdered him, and his ghost at 
midnight had stood at my bedside and aroused 
me from balmy sleep, my feelings, my sensa- 
tions could not have been more horrible! Tho 


revulsion or reaction was so violent, that I actu- 
ally fell on the floor insensible ; and for fifteen 
minutes or more I knew nothing. Mrs. 

N , his wife, had raised my head, placed 

a pillow under it, had thrown vinegar in my 
face, and was rubbing my hands, when I be- 
came conscious, and N was crying like a 


It was nearly two hours before I was able to 
walk; when my old friend at whose house I 
had stopped, came to look me up, and carried 
me home in his carriage, where I remained two 

days — N sending over repeatedly to know 

how I was. 

I left them, and I never had the courage to 
tell any one there the object of my visit, nor 

was it ever suspected. Had I found N in 

good health, I should have committed an out- 
rage which might have been a source of sorrow 
and misery forever; and I thanked God, from 
the core of my heart, that my hunt for revenge 
terminated as it did. 


That was another lesson which I have never 
forgotten. When I have "been provoked, injured, 
or insulted, that transaction would ever recur to 
my mind, and no after revenge has ever since 
soiled a spot in my heart ; no malice can live 
in my breast. Let all, if any, who may read 
this true memoir, remember that revenge be- 
longs not to man, and that malice is an at- 
tribute of the evil one. For nine years did 
the most vile of human passions dwell in my 
bosom; but the result of my visit for revenge 
cured me forever! For years, whenever the 
adventure was called to my mind, tears in- 
voluntarily filled my eyes, and I would thank 
God I had escaped so well. 



Tho* clouds o'ercast and tempests mar 

Too oft our fondest dreams; 
TW grief and pain and savage war 

Destroy our brightest schemes — 
The saddest gloom will pass, they say; 

Calms closely after storms are found; 
Sunbeams chase the clouds away, 

And quiet peace comes gently round. 



How holy, how sacred should the ties that 

bind husband and wife together in this world 

be guarded, preserved, and remembered ! The 

confiding, trusting, loving wife leaves parents, 

brothers, sisters ; early friends and associates ; 

the home of her childhood, the play-grounds of 

her youth; her heart devoted to her husband, 

but welling over with grief at leaving all her 

early loves. She gives her all to the husband 

of her choice, the future partner of her joys 

and sorrows. She voluntarily promises to love, 

honor, and obey him, in sickness and in health 

in poverty and affliction; and he promises to 

nourish and protect and nrovide for her, and 



to love her only till death, aye, death! No- 
thing else severs the ties. 

The marriage contract is more sacred, more 
important than any other social obligation 
known to the civilized world. It deserves and 
should command and receive more respect ; and 
that bond should never be broken, repudiated, 
nullified, or forgotten. 

In the marriage ceremony, however varied in 
the customs of the numerous nations, societies, 
and tribes of the earth, civilized and natural, (or 
barbarous,) there is in all the varieties a solem- 
nity (more or less) always impressive, however 
wise, or simple, or imposing ; there is ever an 
awe or seriousness in the performance, carrying 
conviction to the heart of every spectator that 
the institution is of heavenly origin, and that 
it should not be entered into carelessly, without 
reflection, and without the earnest intention of 
both parties to faithfully perform their volun- 
tary pledges and obligations; that the sacred 
oonds should not be given ignorantly; and that 


all the duties should be understood and duly 
weighed ere the irrevocable act of consummation. 

The marriage alliance should never be entered 
into lightly and thoughtlessly, giddily or play- 
fully, as if it were a frolic. It is for life, and 
much good or more evil is the certain conse- 
quence. Yery young persons are incapable of 
selecting partners or companions for life ; and 
although generally early marriages are advisa- 
ble and best, yet I would oppose parental au- 
thority to the marriage of young masters and 
misses. A man had better be over twenty-five 
years of age, and a female over nineteen than 
under. And in all cases males and females, 
young or old, should avoid a fool with a pretty 
face when selecting a wife or husband. Clean- 
liness of person, activity of mind and limbs, 
with a fair share of common sense on both sides, 
are the most certain guaranties of happiness in 
a married life. Fools scold and fret and frown 
and fume or pout for trifles. 

No man of sense would quarrel with his wife 


whether the turkey should be boiled or roasted 
for dinner; no woman of sense would quarrel 
with her husband because he preferred rolls to 
muffins for breakfast. 

" Marriage has many pains," doubtless, and 
their numbers are greatly increased by the par- 
ties for want of common sense, reflection, kind- 
ness of disposition, charity and forgiveness. Ig- 
norance of duties and selfishness, bad temper, 
thoughtlessly indulged in, drive away reason, 
and frequent repetitions make marriage a curse. 

Husbands and wives should never contradict, 
positively, rudely, or passionately, each other. 
There is no necessity for it, and good can never 
come out of it. No husband should ever neglect 
any little pleasant attentions to his wife. They 
are due and are expected. No wife should for- 
get to receive her husband pleasantly when he 
returns from business, or neglect to have his 
little customary wants ready for him on his ar- 
rival after any absence. 

Mutual civilities and kindnesses are invalua- 


ble parts of the rights belonging to married 
persons, and the party neglecting to tender them 
on all occasions commits the first breach in the 
marriage contract. Petty, contemptible, and vul- 
gar, jealousies should never find a resting-place 
in the hearts of married persons who respect 
and guard themselves; and all and every cause 
for such ridiculous suspicions should be most 
scrupulously guarded against. 

In associations with our fellows we may and 
should tender to all every courtesy, civility, and 
attention the usages of society require, pleasant- 
ly and acceptably, without subjecting ourselves, 
or deserving the charge cr suspicion of what 
causes jealousy. 

A man of sense is ever pleased to see gen- 
tlemen attentive to his wife. It is proof of her 
worth, and that she is properly esteemed. A 
man of sense will never neglect his wife in so- 
ciety; and a wife should ever be pleased to see 
her husband attentive to ladies who are le- 
glected and require attentions. 


Religion and friendship may soften 
The soul, when troubled and sore; 

But when visited dearly so often, 
The heart will sigh for yet more. 

A blank, a waste is around it, 
A loneliness- — a desolate chill; 

Religion and friendship surmount it, 
But the heart is a dreariness still. 

It sighs for what it has cherished; 

It throbs for loved ones above; 
It weeps for those that have perished, 

And sighs for something to love. 

Sweet glow of bright cheering friendship, 
Oh, would that ye could bid depart 



The shadow that falls o'er my spirit, 
And the chill that now binds my heart. 

But even when blest and sincerest 
With kindness and love running o'er, 

The soul may feel it the dearest, 
But the heart will sigh for yet more. 



There dwells not in the human breast a 
passion so holy, so pure, so sincere, so lasting, 
so strong, so devoted, so fearless of consequences 
under all circumstances or difficulties and dan- 
gers, as a mother's love for her child. For her 
child a mother will dare do anything that 
mortal power can. A sick child is sure of its 
mother's sleepless vigils, and ceaseless care and 
attention. In starvation, the last morsel of food 
is placed in the child's mouth, and she dies 
with the last prayer breathing for its happiness. 
She will protect it from cold with her feeble, 
attenuated form, and the last rag of want and 

misery left. She will snatch from danger, un- 


a mother's love. 195 

hesitatingly, her child, regardless of life herself. 
At the risk of all, she meets and braves a tiger 
or a wasp with equal indifference, should it be 
exposed to either. When disease, sorrow, and 
poverty oppress her, she labors for it till 
death stiffens her nerves. Ingratitude, crime, 
dissipation, neglect, abuse from a child, weighs 
not a feather upon the mother's heart — she loves, 
and loves forever. Upon the gallows, ironed, in 
a dungeon, under sentence of death for the 
most ignominious act in the catalogue of in- 
famy, detested, shunned, and hated by all else, 
the mother clings to, endeavors to console and 
encourage, and loves her child. Husband, pa- 
rents, friends of early youth are forgotten, but 
a mother never forgets her child. There is 
nothing selfish in a mother's love. A child 
may love its parents, but age weakens it — a 
sister may love a brother, but a husband oblite- 
rates that love, and the brother is forgotten. 
Nothing destroys a mother's love — she loves her 
child forever. However delicate, sensitive, or 

196 a mother's love. 

cowardly a mother may be apparently, in mat- 
ters where her babe is not interested, she ever 
displays a Spartan heroism, a gallant bearing 
and chivalrous demeanor, a presence of mind 
worthy the greatest Roman of them all, when 
danger threatens. Prompt, decisive, and judi- 
cious action is the first impulse when she sees 
or hears her child in peril. 

An infant had crawled near a precipice ; its 
mother saw it with agony and horror, yet she 
screamed not — she did not faint; no, she ap- 
proached it calmly, called it by its pet name, 
softly and sweetly, baring at the same instant 
to view her breast; when the child turned and 
crowing with delight, clapped its tiny hands, 
and scrambling gleefully to its fount of nourish- 
ment, was soon in its mother's arms. 

Any good soldier could dare the cannon and 
cross the bridge of Lodi, as did Bonaparte; any 
good soldier could mount and storm the walls 
of a well-defended fortress — the leader of a 
forlorn hope; but no man, no father, could 

a mother's love. 197 

have, under such circumstances, commanded his 
presence of mind — he would have rushed at the 
risk of his own life to the rescue, and as he 
leaped, instead of catching, would have fright- 
ened his child into an involuntary forward 
motion, and to instant destruction. 

A mother, only, is ever prepared, composed, 
and wise enough to save and protect her child 
when dangers threaten; a mother, only, is 
blessed with more than mortal energies at 
such moments; and after all is over and safe, 
she swoons and resuscitates woman, apparently 
feeble and dependent on the self-styled lords 
of creation! Oh, holy, heavenly mother! how 
much do I owe thee! If in me there is 
aught of good, it is from my mother's teach- 
ings, my mother's examples; if ever I sinned 
or erred, it was because my mother's advica 
was unattended to, neglected, forgotten. Oh, 
sainted mother! how very dear to me is thy 
memory ! 

I have long and painfully known the world. 

198 A mother's love. 

I have lost parents, brothers, sisters, wife, 
sons, and daughters; grief and sorrows have 
bowed me down and silvered my hair; time 
has thrown his mantle over me and softened 
the throbs of agony, calmed and soothed my 
aching heart, but the memory of my mother's 
love, and care, and advice, and looks, is yet 
fresh and green. 


"Man wants but little here below," 
The poet sweetly sings, 
And all that he should want to know 
Comes down on angels' wings. 

From Heaven comes all knowledge, good 

To mortals who desire; 
And he who loves his Maker, should 

For wisdom there inquire. 

In ignorance we are born, no doubt, 

Our eyes are blindly closed; 

The earth is ours, we creep about 

And fed — when we're disposed. 



But farther, when the stars and sun 

In glories shine forever, 
How little do we know of One 

Who made them — living everl 


True charity should fall, like the blessed dew 
of heaven on the parched verdure of the earth, 
quietly and refreshingly on its recipients, with- 
out shouts and exulting publications. 

Ostentatious charity has its reward on earth, 

and deserves none in the world above. God 

has made it the imperative duty of those whom 

he blesses with riches to bestow charity ; but 

in giving to the poor and needy, it is better 

that the iC right hand should know not what 

the left hand doeth." The man of wealth, who 

accompanies his gifts by boasting proclama- 



tions, blazoned abroad in the daily journals, 
stands on the books of Heaven with an account- 
fairly balanced — nothing to his credit on the 
score of charity is there. 

" Charity covers a multitude of sins" — aye, 
the heaven-born charity, the heartfelt charity, 
the charity that comes from the soul freely and 
noiselessly, to give life and health and peace 
to the broken-hearted, poor, helpless sufferer ; to 
stay the bitter pang and scalding tear of sorrow 
and grief; to calm the agony of an afflicted 
mother, and make her fatherless and starving 
children leap and clap their attenuated hands 
with joy to them unknown before ! The charity 
that is acknowledged in Heaven, and there 
credited the donor, is pure and free from self- 
ishness ; it relieves the afflicted, aids the sufferer, 
and comforts the needy, without a boastful dis- 
play to the world of such acts. The exhibition 
destroys the saint-like value of true charity, 
and the giver has his only reward in worldly 


True charity searches for its objects. No bluster, 
no trumpeting, no publication precedes the heav- 
enly wanderer, as he silently perambulates the 
lanes and alleys and by-ways of wretchedness, 
poverty, want, disease, and sorrow. He finds and 
relieves the sufferer, returns quietly with a dou- 
ble blessing attending him to his bed of peace- 
ful slumber ; all, save God and his own pure 
heart, ignorant of the falling of the dew, and 
the receiver alone murmuring prayers of thank- 
fulness to the unknown comforter. 

The millionaire who gives his thousands to 
aid in building hospitals and houses of refuge 
for the poor and afflicted, the crippled and insane, 
the widow and orphan, does indeed much good 
in the sight of God, and will have his reward 
here and hereafter. The poor man, with limited 
means, the laborer who has a family to support, 
and yet spares from his pittance a <c mite" for 
the sick and afflicted cheerfully, while his heart 
overflows for the sorrow before him, and deep 
regret that he has not more to give, and gives 


that little quietly and calmly — that man's heart 
is the home and resting-place of true charity, 
most acceptable to the throne of Heaven, valued 
as the " widow's mite." 


Birds are singing, music ringing, 

For Spring is come again I 

Sweet flowers "blow, oh what a show I 

For Spring is come again! 

Bees are humming, insects druroming, 

Farmers sowing, cattle lowing, 
Lambkins bleating, no more skating I 

For Spring is come again! 

Buds are swelling, rivers welling, 

And fish dash up the streams! 
Doves are billing, ever willing, 

For love's in all their dreams! 

Pigeons cooing, blue-birds wooing, 

For Spring is come again ! 

18 205 


The frogs at play now croak away, 
The grass is green and growing, 

And every night the sparkling light 
Of fire-flies brightly glowing, 

Sweet gentle rains steal o'er the plains, 
For Spring is come again! 

Green trees and shrubs, and worms and grubs, 

And lovely views, and noiseless dews, 
Succeed the ice and snow, 

And cocks and hens, and hills and fens, 
Put forth their beauties now ! 

Our spirits light, as diamonds bright 
Our eyes now flash with pleasure, 

The happy smile is seen the while, 
Our hearts enjoy the treasure. 

Sweetest flowers, charming bowers, 
Breezes soft — all aloft, 

Clear, serene and bright, 
For Spring is come again 1 

Sunbeams streaming, warm love teeming, 

All nature seeming — 
Rich and full of light! 

For Spring is come again! 


Then let us give, while yet we live, 

Our holy love to God above 
And thank forever more, 

That Spring is come again! 

Washington, D. C, 1852 


Dare I touch this holy theme? I who am 
regarded by so many as an infidel, an unbe- 
liever, because I am a member of no particu- 
lar church ; because I am not to be seen regu- 
larly seated in holy places on holy days, exhi- 
biting myself to the public in testimony of my 

Yes, I dare! and further, I dare to say that 

a regular and constant attendance at places of 

religious worship is, in my opinion, no certain 

evidence that the attendant is a Christian in 

faith or acts. Christianity is charity, love, and 

good-will towards our fellows; forgiveness; doing 

good to our neighbors; making peace; abstain- 



ing always from all acts or words that might 
under any circumstances insult, wound, injure, 
provoke, or mortify any human being — that is 
the religion taught by the Saviour of the world. 

Should any doubt it, I refer to Christ's ser- 
mon on the Mount; there is more charity in 
that chapter than is necessary to convert all 
good men to Christianity, if they will read it 
understandingly with the proper spirit. That 
sermon embodies the whole Christian creed; it 
carries evidence of its purity and truth and 
divinity in every sentence; it is manifestly of 
heavenly origin. 

Christianity is infinitely superior to any other 
religion practised or acknowledged in this wide 
world. I have carefully read and studied all 
the known written religious creeds of very many 
nations and people of the earth. In many of 
them can be found reason, charity, and moral- 
ity, and forms of worship worthy the untutored 
children of nature; in some there is much sub- 
limity, beauty, and pure devotion — at the 


head of which stands the " worshipers of the 
sun." There is in that religion much natural 
reason and truthful adoration, and if wrong 
almost excusable. But far, far above all pre- 
eminently rises the blessed holy Christian reli- 
gion. There is no doubt of its truth and puri- 
ty, its strict morality and glorious divinity. 

Christ himself gave numerous and unmistak- 
able examples and lessons of his blessed creed, 
and in all no evil can be found, nor has any 
ever been suspected, and therefore the Christian 
religion will ultimately triumph over all the 

The religion of Christ, wherever practised, in 
whatever land, has ever had the happiest effect 
on the condition of females — it raises them from 
the slaves to the companions, friends, and as- 
sociates of man; it makes them man's equal in 
all the duties and enjoyments of civilized life, 
increasing their value and importance a thous- 
and-fold; it gives them the rank and station in 
the world the Creator intended when he made 


Eve the "bone and flesh " of her companion 
Adam. All females should be Christians in pro- 
fession, practice and faith. 

But building churches and regularly attend- 
ing them; publicly praying, however often; ex- 
hibiting your professions to ,. v e world; throw- 
ing your man-created dogmas into your neigh- 
bors' faces; sending "unanointed and unan- 
nealed to Hades" all who will not sub- 
scribe to your doctrines; abusing other denomi- 
nations for believing what you call heresies; 
slandering the teachers and members of other 
sects; denying to others (as wise as yourself) 
the right to judge and think for themselves — 
will never make you a Christian. 

To be a Christian — faith, hope, love and cha- 
rity — unsullied, pure and holy — must dwell in 
your heart. 

The true Christian ever worships his God at 
all times and in all places; his heart is ever 
thankful; his gratitude is ever welling over; 
his soul is full of charity for all creatures; he 


does no evil, he thinks no evil, his sole wish 
is to do good, he loves his neighbor as himself, 
and does unto others as he would have others 
do to him. No envy, malice, hatred, jealously, 
revenge, slander, or evil towards his fellows has 
a home or resting-place in the heart of a Chris- 

Keligion is from God! from Heaven! 
To mortals all 'tis freely given, 
Who wish to have and truly feel it, 
God knows when and how to reveal it: 
His work is pure religion. 

The heart that gives devoid of art 
To all who need at least a part, 
For others' woes can feel the smart; 
The meek, the kind, the generous heart, 
Is true religion's home! 

Do good, shun vice, love God and peace; 
Ask for help, and never cease 
To aid the suffering sons of Heaven 
In every way the power is given: 
That's pure religion! 


Almighty God! who governs all 
The rich, the poor, the great and small ; 
The wise, the weak, the high and low ; 
From whom our hopes and blessings flow. 
God! to whom we adoration owe, 
And all the good we feel and know; 
Who gives ns light, and strength, and wealtl 
Who gives us life, and food, and health; 
Who shows the way we all should go — 
Chastises those who will not know. 
Great God, this one petition grant — 
Thou knowest best what mortals want: 
Oh, God! what's good wilt thou supply — 
What's evil to my soul deny! 



Among the most degrading and contemptible 
passions which debase the human heart are envy 
and jealousy. There is an inexcusable, unpar- 
donable meanness in envying the good fortune 
of a fellow-being; that a man of sense should 
be ashamed of, and a Christian should never 
permit such feelings to rest in his bosom. An 
honorable man will rejoice at the successes of 
his neighbors and acquaintances, and heartily 
congratulate them on all such occasions. 

The envious man looks and feels degraded, 

for the sin is ever accompanied by falsehood, 

slander, and cowardice ; he carries in his face and 

on his tongue positive evidence of his infamy, 



and as he looks and speaks all present know 
the gnawings of his polluted heart. 

The dastard soul rankling with envy and jeal- 
ousy finds purgatory (or worse) on earth, for 
the gall wells over at every good to his neigh- 
bor he hears of, and at everything good for 
others that he sees. 

I cannot imagine a greater curse upon a hu- 
man being than to fill his heart with envy and 
jealousy, for there is no peace for him. Should 
an associate speak well or kindly of any one, 
he hates the speaker and the one spoken of. 
Should one be lauded for his virtues or talents, 
the envious man is not only jealous of the su- 
periority, but hates him who speaks of it. The 
gallant, chivalrous, heroic, and honorable deeds 
of others are, to the envious and jealous, eternal 
sources of pain. 

When quite a little boy I was taken by my 
parents on a visit to some relations in an ad- 
joining county, where there were several chil- 
dren of from two to ten years of age, and 


others in the immediate neighhorhood of the 
same description. One boy, in his sixth year, 
had just received a large gaudily painted hum- 
ming-top, which all the juveniles collected were 
particularly delighted with, and I perhaps as 
much as any other, for having never seen one 
before, my anxiety to try to spin or make it 
hum was very great and very evident; and I 
repeatedly begged the fortunate owner for per- 
mission to exhibit my skill, which to my deep 
mortification he positively refused; and to seve- 
ral other applicants he was equally rude and 
selfish. I retired a little distance and, malgre 
my pride, tears filled my eyes, which my kind 
and ever attentive nurse immediately noticed. 
She knew the cause of my distress, and while 
endeavoring to soothe me, an elder boy snatched 
the top from the cross-grained little owner, and 
throwing it with all his strength on the floor, 
broke it into a dozen pieces, which produced 
forthwith a grand squallification, fully equal to 
the finale of an Italian opera. 


I was coming to my senses quite rapidly under 
my nurse's arguments and reasonings, and to 
the best of my recollection had never, until that 
time, heard the word "envy" used. She told 
me the destructive little gentleman was a very 
bad boy, that he envied the owner of the top, 
who however ill-natured and cross, had a right 
to the toy ; and that I ought to be more of a 
man than to want other boys' playthings, even 
for a moment, when they did not wish me to 
have them; and that my father would get me 
a nice humming-top the very next time he went 
to town, if I would be a good boy. And that 
if I would lend it to my playmates cheerfully 
they never would break it, but play with it 
carefully, return it in a short time, and love 
me always after. That none but bad children 
envied others and were jealous of their play- 

As young as I was, her pleadings carried seme- 
thing like conviction to my heart, and gave me 

an idea, if not a perfect and just conception, 


as she appeared to have, of meum et tuum. I 
felt myself rather degraded, but thought the 
hoy who broke the top a perfect little savage 
and much worse than I was disposed to believe 
myself; for, although I was very anxious to 
have the top in my hands for a little while, I 
certainly had no idea whatever of destroying it 
because it was refused me. The smashing boy 
was soundly switched by his father, .who a few 
days after sent the despoiled and selfish little 
scamp a new top, which was a panacea for all 
his wounds. 

Now the words " envy and jealousy" still 
somewhat annoyed me, and I questioned my 
mother more particularly as to their meaning. 
When the story of the top was told at length, 
my nurse giving a faithful account of the trans- 
action and of my longings and grief on the oc- 
casion ; my- mother explained patiently and fully 
the meaning and evils of envy and jealousy ; 
made me understand why good people would 


never envy or be jealous of the possessions, or 
success, or good qualities of others. 

The very next day I was blessed by my father 
with the ownership of such a beautiful hum- 
ming-top as caused the envy and jealousy of 
all the little boys in the neighborhood. But 
I never refused it to one of them; and it was 
spun and hummed by us all, to the great de- 
light of all, for many, many months; during 
which time I was particularly popular, and if 
the voices of my young companions could have 
made me so, I would have been at least a mem- 
ber of Congress. 

That was another lesson in childhood which 
has never been forgotten; and if I know, or 
have known my sensations since, I do not think 
I have ever envied any human being, unless it 
may have been sometimes (when rather melan- 
choly) the gay, careless, thoughtless, merry, 
musical, happy southern negro slaves — who 
most positively are, unquestionably and beyond 
all doubt, the happiest of all human beings ; 


whatever demagogues^ fanatics, or ignoramuses 
may think, write, or say to the contrary. 
I have looked on those dark-skinned, con- 
tented, improvident, protected creatures with 
feelings too much like envy, and they are 
worthy objects. But few of them ever envy 
any other of God's people, and but few 
are ignorant of their happiness. Certain mad- 
men or bad men have for vile purposes made 
slavery in the southern States a political ques- 
tion, hoping to ride into power on such a hobby- 
horse, and I know I should not mention the 
subject, for God knows I do not envy them, 
and shall never feel jealous of their notoriety. 

The man who gives envy or jealousy a home 
in his heart, nurses a viper and feeds a cancer, 
to sting and gnaw to death all his hopes and 
prospects on earth. Man should exert all his 
powers of philosophy to be contented with his 
lot, his fate, his destiny; for in my soul I 
believe that the God of the Universe distributes 
equally, and fairly bestows a share of good on 


each of his creatures; and if we do not fairly 
enjoy it, it is our own fault, and we richly 
deserve any punishment thus brought on our- 
selves. Qui invidet minor est. 



Summeb now with glowing heat 
Is come again ! in riches sweet, 
Of all the beauties ripe and fair 
That nature's God prepares 
For all his creatures, high and low> 
To use with reason here below; 
Fruits so tempting, luscious, sweet, 
That gods as well as man might eat. 

Kind mother earth's productions rare 

In great abundance ever fair, 

Surround us all on every hand, 

Of every kind throughout the land. 

No want of bread is here yet known; 

No blight attends our seed when sown; 

For God looks down on us with love, 

And sends our blessings from above. 


• SUMMER. 223 

No farmer's stalks, with haggard mien; 
No struggling mortal now is seen; 
Food in plenty o'er all the earth, 
And good is thrown to all of worth; 
O'er all its sons, on every hand, 
Of our most favor'd, happy land. 

How good is God, how great is He, 
How thankful we should ever be 
For all His mercies — gifts so rare; 
For all His blessings, love and care. 
And now let's bow to God on high; 
Give glory to our God on high; 
And ever with our latest sigh, 
Give glory to our God on high. 



"Who but a mother can appreciate the holy 
sensations, the intensity of love, produced by 
the first cry of her infant? I have thought 
I could understand them, but time has con- 
vinced me their value is only known to a 
mother. She draws it to her bosom, forgets 
her pains, thanks her God for the gift, and 
only asks: 

"Is it perfect." 

It is the first or another link of the chain 

that binds her to her husband, but at that 

moment her heart throbs only for her babe. 

She only wishes to live that she may never 

part from it, but nurse and love it forever. 



A mother's duties commence at the birth, of 
her innocent child. If I am wrong, may 
heaven forgive me, I cannot believe that an 
infant comes into this world a condemned sin- 
ner; it is in direct opposition to my firm 
conviction of the justice of the Creator; and 
the babe, whose only act in this world is a 
cry of pain, cannot be a sinner. 

A mother has no thought of her child, but 
for its comfort and health; she may neglect 
all else for a while, but her child never. 
She may err sometimes in her management 
or judgment, but generally a mother is the 
best and safest nurse for her child, and if it 
be a female, a mother is the best attendant, 
teacher, and friend, till it arrives at woman- 
hood. A kind word from a mother will control, 
nine times out of ten, more certainly than 
scolding or whipping a child; that should 
never be resorted to until oft-repeated kind- 
nesses has failed. An attentive and sensible 
mother can very soon, without severity, make 


her child obedient, tractable, and docile; and 
a mother's teaching, precept, and examples 
are never forgotten, and always respected and 

If in a mother's power (without neglecting 
other duties) she should be the sole instructress 
of her daughter, and be with her, talk freely 
and pleasantly with her, till fate or fortune 
separates them. 

From the rules and necessities of civilized 
society, much of a father's time (or so much) 
cannot be given to his children as a mother's; 
but his duty to his children should not be 
neglected. Much, very much depends on his 
particular attention, and he should at every 
opportunity confer and consult in the most 
amicable manner with the mother^ as to the 
best manner of treatment, best studies, best 
books to read, best manner of dressing, best 
amusements and playthings; and the temper, 
habits, disposition, and conduct of their children. 
All cannot be governed alike. Some are natu- 


rally more amiable, and some more mischievous, 
vicious, or unruly than others; some require 
very little correction, others much; parents, 
however painful it may be, must not forget 
that "the rod was made for the fool's back," 
and that if we " spare the rod," we may "spoil 
the child. " 

No parent should ever strike a child when 
in a passion; however young, the child knows 
when a blow is given in anger ; it thinks the 
blow is to gratify its parent's revenge — and 
such a blow never corrects. The man who 
would double up his fist and knock his child 
down in anger, deserves the gallows. 

Parents should never deny or studiously keep 
from a child any article whatever which they 
frequently use themselves. Children are more 
observant, even when very young, than most 
parents are willing to believe; and then curi- 
osity and cunning are sometimes the cause of 
deep mortification and astonishment. Nearly 
all transactions and remarks are noticed and 


remembered by children; and words spoken 
jestingly are too often repeated by children, 
at times particularly mal apropos. Tittle-tattle^ 
petty scandal, light talk of neighbors, should 
never be indulged in at any time, but cer- 
tainly never before children ; they should never 
hear it, for they will repeat it, and shame and 
bad feeling are the inevitable result. Children 
should have much time to run about and play 
in the free and pure air; confinement, under 
any circumstance, injures or destroys health. 
Too much study or confinement is worse for a 
child than too much liberty. Let them exer- 
cise in every way freely; it strengthens and 
gives elasticity to the minds and bodies of 
males or females. Make companions and as- 
sociates of your children, set them good ex- 
amples, speak to them kindly and affection- 
ately; but chastise and correct them promptly 
and positively, from their infancy, on the slightest 
deviation from your orders, or the slightest dis- 
position to rebel, or evidence of disobedience. 


Convince them early that you must be obeyed 
and much future trouble will be saved. It is 
folly in the extreme to dress children expen- 
sively, whatever your circumstances may be. 
Plain, neat, and clean apparel is much better 
for girls and boys, and it is not only a bad 
example to others, but leads and tempts children 
to acts of dissipation and even crime. A fond- 
ness for "fine clothes," has been the source of 
much evil. 

Daughters require peculiar attentions from 
their parents, from their childhood till they 
select a protector, (as a husband is called.) 
It is very important that the associates and 
friends of girls should be known to their pa- 
rents; all depends on early impressions, if good 
or evil, time never entirely eradicates them; and 
what children learn adults remember. A child 
never forgets the acts, deeds, or remarks of a 
new companion who is a year or two older. 
How careful then should a parent be, in per- 


mitting strange playmates to be alone with their 

Daughters are like the finest porcelain vases. 
The least flaw or crack in the character of a 
female remains forever; there is no mending 
it, no hiding it from public view, no securing 
it from the remarks of those ever fond of slander 
and tattle. It is the duty of parents to guard 
as strictly as possible, their daughter from all 
associates whose morality is in any way suspected. 
One girl of evil propensities and of careless 
morals can destroy a whole school; and it is 
my firm conviction, that a "boarding-school 
for young ladies and misses," is the very last 
place (that has any pretension to decency and 
respectability) that parents should ever send a 
daughter. If possible, a mother only should 
teach a daughter. Parents had better hire 
everything else done in a family, than pay 
for the board and education of^a daughter 
away from a mother's care and watchfulness. 
When a daughter is the constant companion 


and associate of a mother, she is far removed 
from evil — she is sure of good advice and good 
examples, which will never be forgotten; and, 
in after life, should she unfortunately be ex- 
posed to bad examples they take no hold, 
make no impression, and have no evil effect. 
There may be some very good schools for 
females — I hope there are — but my very long 
experience justifies me in saying that, at the 
very best of them, girls learn more " fiddle- 
de-dee nonsense," frivolities, and extravagances, 
than useful, valuable, interesting, and neces- 
sary accomplishments. The vicissitudes of life, 
particularly in this country, make it absolutely 
necessary for all females, it matters not what 
station they hold in society, or how wealthy 
their parents may be, to learn all duties ap- 
pertaining to housekeeping, and to make up 
their minds in case of necessity to perform 

All intellectual and ornamental accomplish- 
ments added to those considered necessary, will 


surely increase the worth of the possessor, but 
they are secondary, and the useful should he 
first acquired. No mother should cook and 
wash who can pay for her children's educa- 
tion, if she can teach them herself. 

She should pay for scrubbing, washing, cook- 
ing, and other labors in her family, and as a 
lighter and much more pleasant duty, instruct 
her children. I have no opinion of a mother's 
good sense who prefers to perform the menial 
duties of her household and pay for the education 
of her children. The mother who boasts of 
such onerous services, and sends at a much 
greater expense her children to a boarding- 
school, is " penny-wise and pound-foolish." 

When boys arrive at the age of thirteen 
and fourteen, if the father's means permit, he 
might supply a private teacher or send them 
to the best public school afc~ his command, for 
the morality of boys (such is the way of society) 
is not such brittle matter as girls, and their 
intercourse with the world almost makes it 


necessary to throw them abroad, and let them 
take their chance for good or evil; but the 
parent's advice should follow them, and when 
away from examples, "line upon line, and pre- 
cept upon precept," from "home, sweet home," 
should ever attend them. 

A boy is often benefited by changes in situ- 
ation and condition; it enables him to contrast 
his early life with the present, and if he 
have a fair share of common sense he benefits 
by it and informs his parents, asking further 
advice. But let this be understood — parents 
cannot devote too much of their time to the 
instruction of their children; and, above all, 
good examples and advice with proper teach- 
ings, will do more to make them valuable, 
useful, and respectable members of society than 
all else. 



The lowing herd — the bleating sheep — 

The warbling birds are all asleep; 

My faithful dog hath softly crept 

Into the box where dogs have slept. 

But he remains awake to guard 

The master, kitchen, house and yard. 

Of all the world, of bond and free, 

All are asleep, but the dog and mel 

He often growls, and sometimes barks; 

The thief and robber he surely marks; 

The honest man he lets alone, 

And wags his tail or gnaws a bone I 

My dog is happier far than I! 

He never heaves the heart-felt sigh; 

He has a friend — a master near, 

Who loves and treats him with much care; 


MY DOG. 235 

Who sees him oft, and pats his head, 
And knows he has his daily bread. 
The dog is grateful, good, and true, 
And dearly loves his master too. 
He loves to live, and eat, and hear; 
But I — a wounded, "stricken deer;" 
Life's ties broken, life's charms gone — 
World — I have lov'd thee —I have done! 


Of all the crimes known and indulged in by 
civilized society, ingratitude only is without 
cause; it is unmitigated, detestable, degrading 
and infamous ; it is of frequent occurrence ; and 
it is without a law, ordinances, or regulation to 
punish it. The ungrateful stalks abroad fear- 
lessly; knows and feels his obligations; meets 
his benefactor with averted scowl; is reminded 
of his debt by the glimpse askance, and wishes 
his friend at the bottom of the ocean, in order 
that a sight of him might now again put him 
in mind of it. The man in whose heart ingrati- 
tude dwells is worse than a viper warmed into 

life on your hearth, and then stings you for it. 



It is the reptile's nature — it knows no friend ; all 
animated creation is its enemy, and it bites, 
stings, and poisons to defend itself! Man, 
when he receives a favor of kindness, knows, 
feels, and understands it ; he should never forget, 
but with pride and pleasure remember it forever, 
with heartfelt never-ending gratitude; and a 
disposition and determination to be equally kind 
and generous; not only to his benefactor but to 
all others in need, when it is in his power. 

Many years since I was on my way north in 
company with one of the most wealthy men of 
the south, an old bachelor, and an accomplished 
gentleman and scholar, he had traveled much 
in Europe ; was a keen observer, and knew his 
fellow-man perfectly. He related many of his 
adventures in such an interesting manner to me 
(then a young man) that they were indelibly im- 
pressed on my mind. He inherited an immense 
estate, was truly charitable, yet he added to 
his wealth annually to the end of his life. 

"When/* said he, "I entered college, almost 


a boy, my guardian furnished me most liberally 
with money ; it soon became known ; and you 
have no idea of the numbers who sought my ac- 
quaintance, intimacy, and friendship; at which I 
was perfectly delighted, never dreaming of or 
even suspecting any selfishness ; and I soon be- 
came decidedly the most popular young gen- 
tleman in the place — often, very often was I 
asked for a small loan, which was never refused, 
and my happiness was greatly increased by 
knowing that it was in my power to relieve (for 
the time) as I verdantly supposed so many 
friends. But a few months passed ere I found 
that some of those to whom I had loaned most 
kept out of my way, evidently dodging me ; they 
had always been treated most kindly and cour- 
teously by me, and their apparent intentional 
avoidance mortified me ; I had never thought of 
asking them to return the loans, for I took it 
for granted they would do it so soon as it were 
in their power. Others though soon took their 
places, borrowed my money, and in due time 


also kept out of my way. This went on for 
many months, until my associates in the whole 
school dwindled down to three — who had never 
borrowed a cent from me. The thing worked on 
my mind ; I feared I had done or said something 
unintentionally that had pained or wounded them. 

" One of them I had a sincere and warm at- 
tachment for, and his absence distressed me. I 
had never mentioned to any one that I had 

ever loaned a shilling to any one. But to C , 

one of the three who were yet my associates, I 

mentioned the strange conduct of T. S , when 

he looked keenly in my eyes and asked: 

"'Have you loaned him money ?' 

"I hesitated, stammered, and thought it ra- 
ther improper to reply, and was endeavoring to 

avoid it when C , with a smile, saved me 

the trouble, saying: 

Ul l know you have — he never will return it, 
and you may rest assured you have lost your 
friend and money too ; as nearly all do at col- 
lege under such circumstances. ' 


"I was shocked, thunderstruck, and uttered 
the first oath in my life, by swearing that by 

I never would lend money to a friend 

again ! 

" And now," said he, "I will relate an inci- 
dent which occurred twenty-five years after I 
left college. I was in Italy, where I had just 
lost an only brother ; I was in bad health, mel- 
ancholy, in want of companionship, congenial 
society, and accidently (as I thought) happened 
to meet in a gallery of paintings a gentleman, 
whose particularly genteel appearance and man- 
ners attracted my attention ; he noticed my gaze 
and very respectfully bowed ; for several succes- 
sive days we met in the same way at different 
exhibitions or places of interest or amusement, 
but without interchanging a word. I was per- 
fectly fascinated by the man's appearance ; and 
on our next meeting I waived a formal intro- 
duction and handed him my card, which he 
received with the grace of a Chesterfield, and 


presented his in return ; we entered into conver- 
sation, and I was charmed as never before ! 

"I mentioned that in a few days I should 
leave for Switzerland, where I expected to spend 
the summer ; he very pleasantly replied that 
such was his intention, and asked in what part 
of Switzerland I would remain. I told him at 
or in the neighborhood of Lake Como ; when he 
exclaimed : 

'" Strange coincidence; I intend to spend the 
greater part of the summer there myself, and 
then to Paris.' 

c " Exactly my route/ said I. 

" c And then to London for winter/ said he. 

" ' And so do 1/ both laughing quite heartily 
at the singular accordance of our views. 

" We left together, were traveling in very 

much the same style, and most charmingly did 

the time pass away; my mind was relieved, my 

health improved. In company we reached the 

Lake, and there was no alloy to our enjoyments, 

amusements, happiness. For a short time my 


friend left me on a trip to Berne as he said, to 
receive funds deposited there for him ; and on 
his return I was again happy. Our time being 
out we left the land of mountains, lakes, and 
beauties, and together arrived at Paris. The 
morning after I remained in my chamber, writ- 
ing letters until after noon; and was just ready 
to go out when my friend entered without 
knocking, apparently rather ruffled or agitated, 
saying or asking rapidly : 

"'Mr. P , have you a thousand pounds to 

spare a few days? Some strange neglect of my 
agent in not having funds deposited here for 
me as directed has incommoded me very unex- 
pectedly. ' 

"I looked at him, remembered my college 
friends, and most firmly replied : 

"'No sir! I love you too well to lend you 
money. I have sworn never again to lend money 

to a friend, for by sir, I never did do it 

without losing both my friend and money.' 

"He bowed most gracefully, turned on his 


heel, and in a most dignified manner left the 
room without uttering another word, and I have 
never seen him since ; hut I heard from him at 
London. My hanker told me, that a man had 
"been apprehended and was then in prison (for 
various rohheries and swindling) who had fol- 
lowed me from Florence through Switzerland 
and France, to Paris, purposely fitted out and 
prepared to roh or swindle me, hy his confede- 
rates in London (one of whom accompanied him 
as his servant,) who knew that I had several 
thousand pounds at my command on the Conti- 
nent ! There was an escape ! And now remem- 
ber, you are a young man, never lend money 
to a friend, for you would he certain to lose 
both! Never trust to appearances, for the mild- 
est looking man I ever saw was an infamous, 
a notorious robber and murderer. There is an 
episode! It teaches what is hard to practice, 
but who that has lived fifty years, will not ac- 
knowledge there is too much truth : n it." 

Ingratitude has wounded me; has more deeply 


lacerated my heart than all other evils of life 
that have too often fallen upon one who natur- 
ally desired to love all creation ! I have seldom 
(particularly) benefited a human being who did 
not subsequently (apparently) hate me for it ; 
hate to see me; hate to know that I lived to 
remind him of his obligation ! This is indeed 
the dark side of humanity, but the side exists ; 
would to Heaven it did not. 

Christianity teaches and commands us to aid 
all our fellows in distress, and the ingratitude 
of many should not deter us from the constant 
practice of the virtue. All are not ungrateful; 
and hereafter I may give you some interest- 
ing instances, exhibiting the bright side of 
humanity; there are diamond spots that sparkle 
and illume the human heart; there are those 
of God's noblest work who delight to re- 
member kindnesses, and to return them at 
every opportunity; there are men who ever 
kindly remember favors, and who never forget 
a friend in adversity. 


Twas sweet to see her happy face, 

Her magic, soft blue laughing eye; 
To watch her movements, all of grace, 
And charms that sometimes cause a sigh! 
And then, oh tlien, the sweetest flow, 

Of sounds e'er heard from mortal lip I 
Or breathing harps when zephyrs blow, 
Or gods from dew-drops music sip ! 
'Twas 'witching, rich, sublimely grand! 
Twould silence syrens — still the lyre 
Of David — tho' his master-hand 
Could touch with superhuman fire! 
Heavenly choristers — angels bright — 

Before God's holy throne of grace — 
When He desires to claim this light, 

Who! or What! will supply her place? 

21* 245 


To see a strong man stricken down by dis- 
ease, paralyzed, enfeebled, helpless as a new- 
born babe! What a scene! What a theme for 

For nearly twenty years almost uninterrupted 

health and strength has attended me through 

all the sorrows that have been my lot, and it 

bore hard on me to be prostrated by pain of 

body. I had almost forgotten that illness might 

be mine as well as other woes! It came, and 

for many days was I thrown on the mercy and 

kindness of those who live to love me! There 

is yet left in this cold world sympathy, and 

charity, and kindness, and love for the afflicted 



at home; and those feelings surrounded me, 
warmed my rapidly chilling heart, quickened 
my almost stagnant pulsations, and restored me 
again to comparative health and strength. — 
Laus Deo! 

- c Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has 
no pleasures." No man, except on a sick bed, 
can fairly value or appreciate the never-ending 
attentions, and watchfulness, and affectionate 
kindnesses of the partner of his joys and sor- 
rows, the wife of his bosom. He only can wit- 
ness her incessant vigils; rejoice to feel her soft 
hand on his fevered and aching brow; see her 
gentle, noiseless movements, with the ever ready 
cup to moisten the parched and burning lips, 
and the ever prepared delicate nourishment to 
tempt the almost lost appetite; to see her watch 
the time-piece, so as not to lose a minute in 
administering as directed the medicine of hope 
and life; to see her smooth the pillow and ar- 
range the disordered bed-clothes, and watch her 
gentle dressings of the painful blisters. 


Oil, Almighty Father! these are the endear- 
ments that make us leave this world so reluc- 
tantly! To those kind friends who, night after 
night, assisted and relieved my worn-down and 
exhausted wife, I here present the warmest and 
most grateful thanks of a heart that never for- 
got a kindness or a favor. May they never 
want such attentions; may they never know pain 
or sorrow, and may the gates of pleasure, plenty, 
and peace he ever open to them and theirs. 

During my illness strange visions moved and 
flitted before me; ludicrous and horrid looking 
figures would alternately present themselves. 
Whether I was half-dreaming or half-delirious 
I know not, but there they were — immense bo- 
dies, demi-human with numerous heads, legs, 
and arms diseased, partly amputated, dangling, 
bleeding, and sore! Birds and beasts with hu- 
man heads, laughing, crying, or grinning as 
they passed along. I thought of the only ani- 
mal that laughs and cries, and the numerous 
ills he is heir to, and wondered at the pas- 


sions, whims, and caprices he is subject to, and 
the impositions he submits to and delights in. 
And then I thought of Kossuth and liberty, 
and Hungarians and Irishmen, and Frenchmen 
and French republicanism, (whew! pooh!) and 
nonsense and fiddledee and humbugs; and in 
my unsettled mind came to the conclusion, that 
I would not give one dead Washington for all 
the living wide-mouthed, windy, blustering, 
speech-making, money-hunting, bewhiskered, 
smoking, huzzaing demagogues and interven- 
tionists in and from all Europe, and the Amer- 
ican abolitionists to boot! And I thought that 
if I had any sympathy or charity to bestow, 
I would first of all relieve every widow and 
orphan, and every man, woman, and child — 
white and black — who wanted food, clothing, 
or shelter in my own dear country; and then, 
if a surplus remained after making entirely com- 
fortable and happy all in this blessed Union, 
I might go on a crusade in foreign lands, three 
or four thousand miles away. 


But you know all these thoughts came over 
me while I was peutetre un peu derange. Man, 
vain man, with all his sorrows, loves ostenta- 
tious display too much, he destroys the virtue of 
heaven-horn charity by publishing to the world 
his deeds, thereby squaring his accounts as he 
passes through this vale of tears; " laying up" 
nothing to his credit in the world above. He 
courts, covets, advertises for, and receives his 
full reward here; he wishes this world only to 
believe him charitable; he pretends to much, 
and exhibits his good deeds for admiration and 
glorification below ! He cannot deceive his God 
and he has his reward, — is fully compensated 
on earth for all his works. "In my soul I 
loathe all affectation." 


Deab God, have mercy! pray forgive 

A sinner trodden down, 
Who wishes to repent and live, 

Without from thee a frown 
The remnant of his life! 

Oh pity, Great Jehovah Lord! 

Your suppliant, meek, and humble; 
Oh, give him now one blessed word, 

For comfort in Ms trouble 
To end his earthly strife! 

Oh give him now, in time of need, 
One look of kindness mighty Lord; 

Eelieve his sufferings now indeed, 

And he will praise in heart and word 

Thy wondrous goodness all his life! 



"Even from the body's purity, the mind 
Eeceives a secret sympathetic aid." 

Cleanliness of person is more conducive to 
health than medicines or cosmetics. "Want of 
decency is want of sense," and no man can 
have proper respect for himself or his associates, 
who appears "before them unclean or soiled in 
person or covering. Cleanly apparel is indis- 
pensable I admit, but the entire body should be 
purified first — the mouth, feet, and hands par- 
ticularly require the frequent use and perfect 
application of nature's bounteous blessing — pure 
water. A decent man would never offer a soiled 

hand to the friendly grasp of an associate ; no 



respectable democrat should be tempted to kick 
an adversary with an unwashed foot; and no 
gentleman should present, expose, or exhibit a 
foul mouth, filthy teeth, and fetid breath in any 
company. He who neglects his mouth, will early 
lose his teeth ; decayed and decaying teeth 
operate most injuriously on the stomach, and 
various incurable diseases are certainly the con- 
sequences. Nothing neglected can be preserved, 
and teeth to be useful for any length of time 
require daily attention, and deserve it. I am 
now over sixty years of age, and have every 
tooth in its place — there is not a speck of decay 
on any one of them. I know not the sensation 
of toothache. My teeth are as white as when I 
was a boy, and I have never used tobacco in 
any way ! That is my history and experience, 
and nearly all I have to boast of. Now I am 
not digressing, for cc in spite of my teeth/' I 
have so often heard the victims of tobacco swear 
they were obliged to use it to preserve their 

teeth, that I thought my knowledge and convic- 



tions might be of importance to those who come 
after me. The general use of tobacco has been 
a cause of astonishment and wonder to me 
since my childhood ; for I then imbibed a preju- 
dice against the disgusting and expensive weed; 
and beg leave to tell you how and when. 

Several of the negroes belonging to my father, 
who were heads of families, lived off to them- 
selves on the plantation, and had snug little 
patches of ground around their comfortable 
cabins or quarters, in which they cultivated 
vegetables, and raised poultry and a pig or two, 
for themselves. One of them, a favorite old 
woman, familiarly called by all " G-ramammy," 
kept a cow and smoked a pipe. I often visited 
her and was treated to milk, pea-nuts, roasted 
potatoes, &c; roamed over her little garden 
with her, and asked numerous questions about 
her " truck," as she denominated everything 
she cultivated — amongst which was tobacco. 
On one occasion she pointed out to me the dis- 
gusting and enormous worms on her tobacco 


plants ; picked off several of them witli her fin- 
gers, and crushed them with her foot, when I 
almost had a chill, and was, as that glorious 
old patriot, John Adams, once said, "in a state 
of quiveration." The kind old woman took me 
in her arms, and she was then smoking her old 
clay pipe. I got a smell of it, the smoke nearly 
stifled me, and I struggled to get down. That 
was the first time I ever had an idea of tobacco. 
Gramammy took me to a stool and sat down 
with me on her lap — poor old creature — not 
thinking her pipe annoyed me, she held and 
talked to me ; when to her dismay I dropped into 
her arms insensible. She screamed, dropped her 
pipe, ran round to the front of her house, threw 
water in my face, and I recovered. But that 
dose needed no repetition, it cared me of tobacco 
for ever ! For a long time I deserted the poor 
old woman, and she was ever after associated in 
my mind with tobacco worms, stinking pipes, 
and nauseating, suffocating smoke. 

I have seldom seen a " tobacco subject" who 


did not have decayed teeth, toothache, a filthy 
mouth, had breath, a dirty bosom, and a very 
disgusting habit of spitting all around and about 
him, to the horror of all cleanly housewives and 
house-servants at least. To the best of my re- 
collection I never did spit on a floor or carpet, 
clean or unclean, in my life ; and I have seen 
talented men, who were ranked as gentlemen, 
spit on the walls, beds, carpets, floors, chairs, 
tables, or anything else in their way, rather 
than even turn their heads. I have seen such 
gentlemen go to bed with a chew of tobacco and 
cigar, both in their mouths, recharging repeat- 
edly, until the room, however decent on their 
entrance, would not " be fit," as Mr. Webster 
said on a certain occasion, cc for a stable." I have 
too often seen such exhibitions of vulgarity and 
indecency, and have suffered much in conse- 
quence repeatedly. I have seen such gentlemen 
walk into clean and handsomely furnished par- 
lors, where ladies were waiting to receive their 
friends and acquaintances, with their hats on, 


cigars and tobacco quids in their mouths, puffing 
and spitting as " extensively " as if the comfort 
of the ladies depended on the density of smoke 
and quantity of saliva produced. 

I have had the sickening smoke too often 
puffed in my face when walking in the thorough- 
fares of cities ; and I have thought a man had 
just as much right to spit in my face or slap 
my jaws as he had to blow his tobacco smoke 
in my face; and I have sometimes feared that I 
would give striking evidence of my opinion on 
on that point, by exhibiting my skill in boxing, 
or pulling the proboscis of the next offender, but 
my extraordinary placidity of temper has thus 
far restrained me. 

That "all men are free and equal" in this 
country, as Mr. Jefferson said, (except the 
"nagers,") I will admit; but the freedom I value 
is not such as would incommode, annoy, inter- 
rupt, or sicken my neighbor. 

A man is "free" to burn his own house 

down, but he must be careful in so doing not 


to burn his neighbor's ; and should he resolve 
on committing or doing a filthy and offensive 
deed or act, he should " tote himself," as Major 
Mcilkie would have said, " to an extensive" 
distance, and be alone in his glory. 

The deliberate, inveterate consumer of tobacco, 
no more excuse for his excessive indulgence 
than has the bloated and besotted rum-sucker. 
The one habit is just as injurious, expensive, 
unnecessary, and filthy as the other, and " per- 
haps a leetle more so," as Bob Jones remarked 
about the twins. 

Xo man can be clean or decent who uses 
tobacco or drinks whiskey to excess. And why 
there are not anti-tobacco societies, I cannot 
imagine. Whew ! I shall have all Virginia and 
Maryland down upon me; mats nimporte; it will 
end in smoke, for I invented a fashion -''long 
time ago" of escaping the dangers of "duels" 
with great credit. 

:ne years since, I examined for amusement, 
h a fine microscope the mouths and teeth of 


a number of persons, and found that none were 
so disgustingly filthy as those of the excessive 
consumers of tobacco. Animalcuhe of the most 
horrible formation and character reveled in the 
gums and between the teeth ; they were of the 
beetle tribe, celebrated for their love of filth 
and carrion ; and I would bet an apple, that no 
man who could see his mouth in such a condi- 
tion would ever again neglect his teeth or use 
tobacco. I wonder not at the detestation ex- 
pressed by King James II, for the pernicious, 
expensive, and useless weed, for he was a decent 
and cleanly gentleman, who never neglected the 
daily ablutions to make one. He had not the 
fear of cold water — that belongs to the treacher- 
ous feline tribe only. 

Cold water is just as valuable when applied 
externally as when taken internally ; and rum- 
suckers and tobacco victims should know that 

Temperance in all things should be remem- 
bered and strictly practiced ; it is a virtue an J 


a command, and punishment in some form or 
other will certainly follow its neglect. 

No decent man should chew tobacco, smoke, 
spit on a floor, blow his nose between his thumb 
and fingers, or cut his corns or toe-nails in 
presence of ladies, that's poz. And no decent 
man should go into ladies' company with dirty 
hands, dirty mouth, or unwashed feet, the cov- 
ering of which could not prevent a knowledge 
of the fact; that's poz, too! 

To see a tiling in human form following a 
pipe or cigar about the public streets, having a 
densely defined line of suffocating smoke in its 
wake, is as offensive to decency as any other 
act of filthiness can be ; and no man who thinks 
himself a gentleman (or whose mamma may 
happen to think so) should ever indulge in such 
an exhibition! As to snuff! I am not up to 
snvff! and will just say, that an old lady asked 
the celebrated Dr. Johnson if he thought that 
u taking snuff' 1 would injure a person's brain? 

"No madam," instantly replied the Doctor. 


' ' No madam, for no person who had any brains 
would take snuff." 

That was conclusive in my opinion, and I did 
not wait to hear more. I deserve a gold medal 
for this essay, nothing less. Verbum sat sapiente 


Could I find a lady fair, 

Warm and kind; 
Could I find a lady fair, 

Warm and kind; 
Whose heart was always soft, 
And who would kiss me oft, 
Ohl I'd love her ever more, 

Warm and kind. 

I'd love her evermore, 

Warm and kind; 
I'd love her evermore, 

Warm and kind; 

She should no sorrows know, 

While journeying here below, 

I would joys around her throw, 

Warm and kind. 



I would joys around her throw, 

Warm and kind; 

I would joys around her throw, 

"Warm and kind: 

Oh! then in heaven we'd meet, 

And seraphs would us greet 

With angels' blisses sweet 

Forever more. 



On a lovely day last summer, with nearly 
all that is now left me in this wide world to 
love, I took passage on the steamer for Mount 

As an American ; a devoted friend of the 
Union and the Constitution, as they are, I 
had long felt it my duty to make a pilgrim- 
age to the holy and sacred home and resting- 
place of the man "who was first in war, first 
in peace, and first in the hearts of his country- 
men." The man to whom we are most 

indebted for a Liberty, Independence, and Hap- 



piness." The man who presided so nohly over 
the Convention which produced our glorious 
Constitution; who so warmly and strongly recom- 
mended it to, and advocated and advised its 
adoption by, his countrymen; who was the first 
President of our Republic, and whose legacy 
in his " Farewell Address" was and is more 
valuable to the whole world than the mines 
of Golconda, Peru, and California. 

Washington was, indeed, truly a "great man;" 
for he was, with all his brilliant achievements, 
a "good man;" his eulogy is indelibly graved 
on the hearts and memories of his countrymen, 
and thousands of generations yet unborn will 
venerate and love, from infancy to death, the 
man who lived and exerted himself for the 
benefit of his country and the world — who 
never performed a selfish act, and never had a 
selfish thought. 

No devout Mahometan ever approached the 

mausoleum of his prophet with purer or more 

sincere love and veneration than I did the 


hallowed Bpot in which so calmly lie the re- 
mains of America's boast and pride and glory — 
her own dearly loved Washington! 

Alexander and Bonaparte were ambitious, un- 
principled, and bloody warriors. They were 
great murderers, robbers, and ruthless, selfish 
conquerors! Bonaparte's successes were only 
used to aggrandize and exalt the members and 
connections of his immediate family and their 
satellites. Alexander was a drunken madman! 
Where was — where is the single good to their 
country, their countrymen, or the world, for 
all their sanguinary victories? What benefit 
to mankind remained or followed their murder 
of hundreds of thousands? What was left of 
all their deeds of devastation, bloodshed, and de- 
struction, to increase the happiness of posterity? 

In the year 1811, the greatest divine and 
orator of his day, the Rev. John M. Mason, 
of New York, poured forth from the pulpit, 
from the fullness of his heart, with the mighty 


"Book of books'' clasped in his hands, and 
his eyes upturned to heaven: 

"If I would be a great man, I would not 
be great like Alexander of Macedon, nor Caesar, 
nor that Goth, that Yandal, that modern Ne- 
buchadnezzar, that scourge of God and man, 
Napoleon Bonaparte! But I would be great 
like 'Saul of Tarsus/" 

I forgot he was in the house of God, and 
expected him to close (in the simplicity of my 
soul) or round off his peroration with the name 
of "Washington" instead of "Saul;" and dared 
to think such a finish would have been just 
as rich and beautiful, and perhaps as effective. 

We landed, and all struggled slowly and 
tiresomely up the hill; and after silently look- 
ing upon the last home of the good and great 
with sensations that Americans can only have, 
I roamed over the grounds and buildings, the 
once happy and lovely residence of the Father 
of the Union; and my heart bled at the scene, 
so changed, so altered; the hand of decay and 


iuin is upon it. The beauties are gone — 
the care and attention of the master are no 
longer there. The charms of cultivation have dis- 
appeared; the roses bloom no more. Weeds and 
thistles and dilapidation have triumphed, and 
the value of the estate now lies buried in the 
vault of the Hero-Chief. 

This should not be. The home of Wash- 
ington, the burial-place of Washington, should 
be the property and under the care of Wash- 
ington's nation. 

Permit me most respectfully, however humble 
and unknown I may be, to beg and entreat 
my countrymen all — from the frozen Lakes of 
the north to the deep blue Gulf of the south — 
from the Atlantic to the Pacific — to petition 
Congress, the assembled wisdom of the Union, 
to purchase at any price the domain of Mount 
Vernon, the mausoleum of Washington, the whole 
estate, for the nation. Count not the cost. 
That sacred spot should not be neglected. It 
should be renovated, ornamented, improved cul- 


tivated, beautified, in honor to the memory 
of its illustrious owner and occupant of by- 
gone days, whose remains peacefully slumber in 
its soil; who devoted much of his time to agri- 
culture. Mount Vernon should be made a model 
farm for the benefit of American agriculturists. 
Petition Congress to that effect. Delay not, 
my countrymen. Beg, beseech, entreat the gov- 
ernment to secure that domain! Competent 
and qualified persons should be carefully selected 
to manage, superintend, and labor, regardless 
of their religious or political opinions. The 
chief and his assistants should be practical 
and temperate men, with salaries large enough 
to command the best talent necessary; the 
laborers should have ample wages, and none 
should be removed or displaced without cause. 
Purchase or procure every animal of value; 
every ornamental, beautiful or useful tree, vine, 
plant, shrub, flower, grain, root, or fruit — domes- 
tic, or exotic, at home or abroad, from the ex- 
tremes of the earth — and have them there 


transplanted, cultivated, nursed, and attended to 
in the most most careful manner; and pairs, 
samples, cuttings, plantings, &c, freely dis- 
tributed among all such Americans as could be 
relied on to propagate, increase, and multiply- 
each and everything so procured, and raised, or 
reared, or cultivated, for the benefit of- the 
whole Union. Our "soil and climate are so 
diversified as to be congenial to the growth 
and production of all animals, plants, &c, from 
any quarter or section of the globe. 

The Mount Vernon estate is of extent quite 
sufficient for these most valuable and important 
services; and, with the aid of hot-houses, 
green-houses, &c, all can be nursed and culti- 
vated there, necessary to distribute in the 
regions best suited for the propagation of any 
particular plant or animal. 

It is not enough for Americans to build 
monuments to his memory, and to name cities 
and towns and counties in honor of Wash- 
ington. We should protect his sacred remains 


from surrounding neglect and desolation. The 
scene of his hospitality and tranquillity should 
belong to his nation — his people; and for regard 
to his virtues and worth be kept as a para- 
dise on earth, from which to distribute all that 
can be found good here, and in all nations of 
the world, to benefit all mankind. 

To benefit his fellows was the object of his 
existence. Let his estate, the home of his pride, 
be devoted to that purpose by his countrymen. 
Let it be purchased at any price; make it the 
domain of the nation — the model farm for 
Americans. Let not the home of our Hero 
and our Father fall into the hands of un- 
principled gambling speculators, who would 
pollute the sacred soil, desecrate his burial 
place, and make his residence the dwelling 
of vagabonds and " money-changers.' ' Secure 
this estate for the nation. It is a holy duty 
you owe the memory of the great, the good 

Written ij» 1861 



Two Dutchmen once were mowing grass 
While the last sad war was raging; 

They both were fond of a cheerful glass, 
But a fight neither wished to engage in. 

They dwelt in York, quite near the lines, 
And often heard the British thunders; 

They sometimes saw and heard of signs, 
And left their work to tell the wonders! 

But one day being hard at work, 
Hans stumbled on a big bee's nest; 

He was toiling like a Barbary Turk, 
And did not see the bees distress'd ! 



Hans had a horn slung to his belt, 

With grease and whetstone for his scythe, 

In which a Bee his way had felt, 
But sticking fast was not o'er blithe. 

At length his wings he found were free, 

He humm'd and drumm'd with all his might; 

Hans' horn did sound right merrily ! 
Voo-vum-voo — 'twas enough to fright! 

Hans heard the sound, and said to his friend, 
" I dinks dat I hears de Pritish drums ! 

I vites dill I dies, I vites to de end, 
If te tarn red goats does dish vay kums!" 

" i" too" said Jacob — and he laid the grass low, 
The bumble-bee wriggled and twisted and voo'd; 
Louder and stronger did he hum and blow — 

The horn peeled its thunder — the poor bee was glb«*t f 

Hans knew not the sound of the bees "in a horn," 
He thought it the British conquering coming, 

He thought of his hogs, his cows, and his corn, 

And he quaked at the sound of the vooing and hum- 


•• Jacob," said he, " I dinks dat dey kums, 

Und I dinks dat I runs — so quick ash I can; 
Dem tarn red goats, vy, dey beats too many drums," 
" Yaw," said Jacob, " I too," and we runs like a man. 

Jake took the lead, and kept rather ahead ; 

Hans followed in style quite close in his wake; 
He thought he was getting away from his dread, 

When his foot all at once struck the teeth of a rake. 

The rake in the grass, lay flat on its back, 

It teeth were looking up to the sun, 
The handle was pointing to the back track, 

And the handle first met poor Hans as he run. 

As his foot struck the rake, his body passed by, 
The handle mischievously flew in the air, 

Struck Hans quite a blow just back of his eye, 
And the Hero fell down on his face in despair: 

Roaring out, "Misder Pritishman, I zurrender," 
" I too," said Jacob, " and you may all our dings dake, 

But vid ourzelves you'll sur ly be dender;" 
And they became prisoners both — to the rake. 


Have you ever been in New Orleans? If not, you'd better 

Its a nation of a queer place; day and night a show! 
Frenchmen, Spaniards, West Indians, Creoles, Mustees, 
Yankees, Kentuckians, Tennesseans, lawyers and trustees, 
Clergymen, priests, friars, nuns, women of all stains ; 
Negroes in purple and fine linen, and slaves in rags and 

Ships, arks, steamboats, robbers, pirates, alligators, 
Assassins, gamblers, drunkards, and cotton speculators ; 
Sailors, soldiers, pretty girls, and ugly fortune-tellers; 
Pimps, imps, shrimps, and all sorts of dirty fellows; 
White men with black wives, et vice-versa too. 
A progeny of all colors — an infernal motley crew I 
Yellow fever in February — muddy streets all the year ; 
Many things to hope for, and a dev'lish sight to fearl 



Gold and silver bullion — United States' bank-notes, 
Horse-racers, cock-fighters, and beggars without coats. 
Snapping-turtles, sugar, sugar-houses, water-snakes, 
Molasses, flour, whiskey, tobacco, corn and johnny-cakes, 
Beef, cattle, hogs, pork, turkeys, Kentucky rifles, 
Lumber, boards, apples, cotton, and many other trifles. 
Butter, cneese, onions, wild beasts in wooden cages, 
Barbers, waiters, draymen, with the highest sort of wages. 
Xow and then there are Duds, for very little cause, 
The natives soon forget 'em — they care not much for laws. 

Attendez un peu — I'll give you one instance! 
A Frenchman one day was seated in a fashionable Hotel, 
Reading the news, taking snuff, enjoying himself quite well ; 
"When a Kentuckian walked in, of most gigantic growth — 
Zjunds ! he was near the size of Erin's hill of Howth ! 
" Waiter !*' roared he. " Sir." " Bring me, in a flirt, some 

cold meat ; 
I'm hungry as a wolf — can't wait — must have it now to 

Be off, Sir, like a streak of lightning." — Away the waiter 

The Frenchman fixed his eyes upon him — then on the 

table leant. 
The waiter soon returned — and soon a cloth was spread, 
Then came ham and turkey, and a little loaf of bread. 


A condiment or two, of which there was not much need. 
Our hero pounced upon 'em, very quick indeed. 
"Waiter," said he, "have me a steak prepared quick, 
And a bowl of hot coffee — strong — don't let it be thick.'' 
In a few minutes, the ham, the turkey, and bread were 

eaten ! 
The Frenchman rose — bowed politely, [there he could not 

be beaten.) 
"Monsieur," said he, "pardon mais zi'l vous plait, vil you 

Jus tell me, if ees your dinnaire or your breakfas vish 

you make now?" 
"Its none o' your business," said Kentuck — the Frenchman 

bowed, took his chair; 
The waiter returned — coffee and steak hot — looked with a 

stare ; 
Saw the ham and dry bones — which he cleared off in a 

To give a fair chance for the steak and coffee so nice. 
Those went like the first — presto — when raising his head, 
(He was half-horse, half-alligator fellow — earthquake bred,) 
"Waiter," said Kentuck, "have you got any cold lamb? 
Thunder and Ughtning, how hungry I am!" 
"Yes sir;" and the waiter was off again in a hurry. 
Our Frenchman was now in, yes, quite in a flurry! 



And as the waiter came in with the lamb and more 

He determined to know what was meant; — so without 

any dread 
He walked up and bowed, with a smile he'd invited, 
"Monsieur, excuse me, mais en verite mon curiosite is 

Yil you, my fren, jus please — no offence I hope you take, 
Tell me vrain is your breakfas or your dinnaire vish you 

make ?" 
The Kentuckian provoked, jumps up with a roar, 
And knocks the poor little Frenchman flat down on the 

Saying, " To hell you impudent frog-eating monkey creep ! " 
Then immediately commenced an attack on the sheep. 
He had finished his meal, and just called for some cider, 
"When a challenge was handed him — he ope'd his eyes 

And scon made arrangements to fight on the morrow; 
Then was off — a friend — pistols and bullets to borrow. 
They met as agreed on, and at the first round 
Our poor little Frenchman fell flat on the ground. 
Mortally wounded was he and in very great grief, 
When Kentuckian walked up to offer relief; 
Expressed his regret at what had happened — then said: 


"I would be happy to assist you in getting a-head, 
Hope you're not hurt severely that you'll soon be well, 
And anything I can do — or have done — you've only to 

"Ah, sair," said the Frenchman, "je suis mort — I cannot 

Mais Monsieur, I vill tank you so long as I live, 
You are ver kind — dere is but von 'ting you can do." 
"Speak — say, my dear sir — quick — let me know too, 
When — where — how can I relieve, or some amends make." 
Then he knelt down beside him, and his huge frame did 

Saying "God bless you — tell me quickly — of your pains 

I partake;" 
"Vel, jus tell me if he vas ze dinnaire or breakfas you 



Addressed to my old friend General Benrury, of 
North Carolina. 

Man was made to mourn and die I 
Till death his sorrows never end I 
He lives in pains and woes! Oh why 

Is this his fate, my good old friend? 
To you I now address my song, 
To you my bosom friend so long; 
Can you relieve my fever'd mind? 
Oh, you have ever been most kind! 
Say, why is man forever cursed? 
Why is man on earth the worst 

Of all created tilings? 
Is he — Creation's master-work — 
"Whether Christian, Jew, or Turk, 

Whose praise the poet sings! 


LINES. 281 

Is he with all his wisdom poor; 
Is he e'er full of pains and sore 

Without a place of rest? 
Is he forgot of God indeed, 
Poor and friendless, e'er in need, 

And suffering when at best? 
Was man alone placed here to grieve? 
The beasts are happy I believe, 

Tbev know no pain of mind! 
They play and eat — they work and sleep— 
They mate and love — they never weep — 

They never sorrows find! 
Man, poor man, was made to mourn; 
His fate is hard, his heart is torn, 

His feet can find no rest — 
His mind's diseased, his sight is bad, 
His hearing's hard — his soul is sad — 

Life's agony at best! 
If home and wife he chance to own, 

And children to delight him, 
There comes a fire, by tempest blown, 

And all are gone to blight him! 
Destroyed are children, home, and wife, 
And ended all his joys of life! 


282 LINES. 

Oh, why is this, my wise old friend? 
"Why is man's heart but made to bend, 
And break forever thus? 
Is man a wretch from earliest youth? 
Is he devoid of worth and truth? 

Is he vile in every way? 
Has he no redeeming good? 
Does he not deserve his food? 

Oh, how is this, do tell me, pray! 
I "know that man is oft unkind, 
I know too well he often errs, 
But then his destiny is blind, 
His eyes are hid by sable furs! 
Is man to blame for that? 
Has man the power to choose his way 

While traveling here below? 
Has man the power to look and say, 

"Yes, this is the way I'll go?" 
Can man his destiny put aside 
And step around it far and wide? 
Can he select his course and then 
Go as he pleases, how and when? 
Say, my friend, you're wise and great, 
You've known the world — oh, many a year I 

LINES. 283 

Do you know much of God and fate? 

Do you know what man has to fear? 
Man comes into the world a child, 
With little else save strength to cry — 
He nothing knows — he asks not why, 
Because he cannot. — See how wild 
He looks when's mother takes 
Away the breast, and makes 

In play an ugly face! 
The infant then mistakes, 
Its parent first — and quakes 
With pain — begins its race! 
See him grow in sorrows early, 

Inch by inch, as strengthening fast— 
All that he gains daily, yearly, 

But adds to pains which ever lastl 
And now a hardy boy is found, 

He looks ruddy, tough, and strong; 
But he's with troubles always bound, 
And woes attend him sad and long I 
At school or play few joys attend — 
The fellow seldom finds a friend; 
The larger rogues cheat and beat him; 
Passions vile possess and heat him. 

284 LINES. 

Do what he can, Ids plans are mar'd — 

(By zounds, my friend, that's devilish hard!) 

Nor boy, nor man has e'er the power, 

To hold a joy one single hour; 

The pleasures ever fly away — 

No joy will last one single day; 

But pauis and son-oics never quit ye, 

They last forever and tightly fit ye 

Is man to blame for all his pains? 

God knows 'tis little good he gains 

In this queer world. — Do all he can 

He lives and dies a wretched man! 

The dog is bappy, has no care — 

His master loves him, speaks him fair 

And fondles him, then pats his head, 

And sees he has his daily bread. 

The ox is yoked and worked 'tis true, 

His hide is goaded sometimes too; — 

But that is evanescent pain; 

And tho' repeated o'er again 

It leaves no wound upon the heart; 

It stings to death no vital part— 

No soul, no spirit living ever 

Is touched and made to ache forever I 

LINES 285 

The beasts are happy man only grieves; 
He works and gains, and then come thieves. 
When robber-man his fellow leaves 
Despoiled and murdered. — Yet man believes 
In this and that, or any creed, 

That fools or villains hatch up; 
Aye, follows, runs with rapid speed, 

And shouts for doctrines humbugs patch up. 
Fools follow fools; asses, asses join; 

Men swallow nonsense — all sorts of things 
With or without reason none decline — 

All are humbugged: peasants and kings! 
Man is born in ignorance and sin; 

(The Bible plumply tells us so,) 
Then why is he accountable in 

Flesh or spirit — high or low? 
Godl — sinful as man is — so made him, 

Just as he came upon the earth; 
And yet to do this or that forbade him. 

Fettered, tied him from Ms birth — 
Gave him passions, soul, and feeling; 

Makes him long for "this and that;" 
Keeps his senses whirling, reeling, 

And will not let him stop at that; 

286 LINES. 

Keeps him in a sinning mood — 

Puts temptations in his way; 
Will not let him when he would, 

Be pure and holy, night or day. 
Disposes him to sin forever, 

Places before him, fair and bright, 
Sweetest food; then bids him never 

Touch it tho' hunger's at its height! 
Makes him feeble, weak, and bad, too; 

Calls forth all his evil passions, 
And makes him feel always glad to 

Wallow in the vilest fashions! 
Man's no free agent here on earth, 

His acts and deeds he can't control; 
He has no power from childhood's birth, 

To rule his body or his soul, 
His passions, or his feelings! 
God makes! God governs! God disposes! 

His wisdom is far above our ken. 
Man thinlcs, and sees, and oft proposes; 

He hears, and feels, and tastes, and then 
He speculates on "tins and that;" 
Will with his comrades laugh and chat, 
And wond'rous wise appear; 

LINES. 287 

He never thinks he nothing knows, 
And sullenly takes all the blows 

From Him man lives to fear! 
God gave us woman. — What a gift! 

Earth's angels are they ever; 
Man without them could make no shift! 

Oh, woman dear and sweet forever! 
But God tempts us with His treasures — 
So enchanting, so bewitching — 
Keeps our passions ever itching, 
And forbids the offered pleasures. 
Can it be a sin to eat 

When hungry, day or night, 
When food is lying at our feet 
Most tempting to the sight? 
Can it be a sin to love 

An angel bright and fair; 
Are passions given just to prove 

That passion's simply airt 
Just look and see the happy beasts, 

The happy birds and fishes, 
They know no pains — enjoy their feasts; 

Indulge in all their wishes. 
They sin not in their joyous revels, 
Are threatened with no burning hell; 

288 LINES. 

They have no fears of ugly devils; 

They live in peace, and then — farewell 
But man, with joys fore'er in sight — 

Forever within his reach — 
Is told with threats he has no right 

To touch or taste a plum or peach, 
To kiss, to love, to 'joy delight, 

To think, to eat, to revel 
In any of the sweets of life; 

For dare he— J&&~ There's the devil! 
Man's appetite is ever strong, 

Rich food is ready ever, 
He can't live without eating, long, 

And yet he must not — Oh, never I 
Then why are such passions given — 

Why the eternal wish to sin? 
If man cannot get to heaven, 

Then open hell and shove him in! 
Don't tempt him every hour he lives, 

With everything that's sweet and best, 
Then snatch away what heaven gives, 

Without permitting him a taste! 
Food was given for all to eat — 

Woman was made for man to love; 
Are passions not to be indulged 


As they come from God above? 
How is this, my dear old friend, 
Is man thus fettered to th' end? 
That God is just, and good, and great, 

Is wisdom's self, all nature proves; 
That nothing evil He would create, 

That His creatures He dearly loves, 
Is the general belief below. 

Is that enough for man to know? 
Man is given power to think — 

He has an ever active mind; 
He will inquire, — desire to drink 

At wisdom's fount, — and knowledge find? 
He wants to know more than he ought; 

He wants to know God's mighty views 1 
He wants to know how he was brought 

To life, without power to choose 
From all that's lovely before him set, 

To tempt — excite the feelings given. 
With all his passions scalding hot, 

As if by Satan fairly driven, 
To hell he was bound full tilt, 
According to the parson's hit! 
Poor man, he dare not turn his head 

To right or left — no, never! 



290 LIXES. 

He fears to move, to breathe, or tread, 

The devil's watching ever! 
If he but think, or smell, or taste, 

Or look on nature's beauties, 
He's told he's bound to hell in haste, 

Forgetting all his duties! 
Why were senses to man given, 

Why should he feel, and see, and hear, 
And taste, and smell, sweet things from Heaven; 
If he must do it, aye, with fear 
And trembling dread eternal wrath 
To follow in his gloomy path! 
Why were warmest passions placed 
In human hearts, so melting hot, 
If t'enjoy them man's disgraced, 

And doomed to boil in Pluto's pot I 
Why was man thus made to mourn ? 

God in his own bright image made him! 
Why was man to sorrow born, 

With gloomy clouds fore'er to shade him? 
Why did the great Almighty God 
Create and animate a clod? 
Make His own image bright and fair, 
Then fill it with eternal care? 
Doom him to suffer night and day, 


Give him a soul and heart, and say: 
"You now have mind and sense acute, 
Do not make yourself a brute. 
Just look on nature's beauties rare, 
To see and smell is your full share; 
Touch not, taste not, eat no part 
Of all that's lovely I do not start I 
Enjoyment, peace, I give to beasts, 
For you are intellectual feasts 1 
You're placed here a time to dwell, 
And if you bear probation well; 
Eefrain, restrain, commit no evil, 
Hereafter you may escape the devil I 
But if you are by passion tempted, 

By lust or beauty led astray; 
Be sure you'll not be exempted 

When comes the awful judgment day! 
And has the Almighty thus decreed, 
Is this man's doom in fact and deed. 
Oh God, would not doom man to sin, 

To endure all the ills of life 
While here on earth, and then begin 

In death an everlasting strife! 
No — God is good, and just, and wise, 


292 LINES. 

We know not His Almighty will, 
It pleases Him to close our eyes, 
Until He all His measures fill! 
Why is it so? Oh can you tell? 

My dear old friend — I wish to know 
Why Adam rarely fought and fell, 
And tumbled man in endless woe? 
Why for such an offence as his 
He dared no more his ugly phiz 

In Eden's garden show? 
For an apple simply tasting, 
What a most infernal basting 
Have we had below 1 
And lovely Eve, oh why was she, 

(Earth's glory, joy of all the world,) 
Guiled by a serpent, (what was he?) 
And into mad'ning troubles hurl'dl 
Why were sorrows entailed upon us? 

Why were serpents given life? 
Why are many creatures noxious? 

Why are hatreds, wars, and strife? 

Why were toads and snakes and bugs 

And insects made to bite and sting; 

To crawl and creep, infest our "lugs," 

LINES. 293 

And buz forever on the wing? 
Malaria, poisonous vapors too, 

Float o'er us ever causing death; 
Disease and pains of every hue, 

Attend us all while we have breath! 
'Tis now near time for me to end, 
This thing is getting long, my friend; 

You will answer me I know. 
Have I asked of you too much? 
I merely want to have a touch 

Of your thoughts — above — below/ 


You ask me much, my worthy friend, 
But having a little time to spend, 
I freely give you, short and sweet, 
My views and notions quite complete. 
f$tf There is a- place of holy rest, 

And suffering mortals find a cave, 
Where sorrows cease — where man is blessed, 
And happy in his gravel 
"We know but little here of God, 
But yet enough for us to know 

294 LINES. 

He is Almighty! man's a clod, 

A part of earth below! 
Then trust and hope in Him on high; 

Known duties do — in mercy save 
A suffering fellow struggling nigh, 

And never fear the grave! 
Of soul or spirit what know we? 

Hereafter is above our ken! 
God gives us knowledge just to see 

Enough of life, and then 
'Till his last loud trump shall sound 
We'll sweetly rest low in the ground! 


Scenes in the South, and other Miscellaneous Pieces, by the late 
Colonel James R. Creecy. 

This work is a collection of fugitive pieces, manuscript found 
after death in the port-folio of Col. Creecy, a gentleman well 
known through the South and West by his contributions to the 
press, and esteemed for his gallant bearing, talent, and generous 

The sketches here offered by his estimable Lady are principally 
graphic pictures of life at the South and on the frontier, when 
Choctaw was almost the vernacular of the hardy pioneer, and 
ash-pones and tin cups the luxuries of the settler's cabin. 

There is much humor in the anecdotes and adventures of the 
life of the author, and in the more serious miscellanies of the 
volume an earnest recognition of the sentiment and best refine- 
ments which should characterize society. 

The contents are as varied as interesting. — Our readers will find 
this a racy book with which to while away a tedious hour, and is 
presented in most creditable style to our fellow citizens. — Na- 
tional Intelligencer. 

Scenes in the South, by the late Col. James R. Creecy. 

This work is what it purports to be — truthful, graphic, and 
graceful delineations of character, as well as scenes in the South, 
at this time and also in its earlier settlement. Many of the 
sketches are racy and amusing, and profitable lessons can be gained 



from the moral courage and determined action of the narrator in 
two or three crises in which he was placed. Without preten- 
sion to rhetorical display, or elaboration of plot, it reads pleasantly 
to the ear, as the genuine effusions of what transpired under the 
author's vision, and often a participator in them. 

Amid this never-ending tirade — this convulsion of slavery, 
abolitionism, we would kindly ask all to peruse the lively sketch 
entitled, "The Language and Dances of the Xegro Creoles." 

The descriptions of " The Catholic Burying Ground on All 
Saints' Day," " The Charivari in New Orleans," are all told in 
a fascinating manner, and the truthfulness of which will be asserted 
by every visitor as well as resident of the " Crescent City." 
" Hospitality of First Settlers," " Anecdotes of Yazoo and other 
countries," will excite the risibles of the gravest, and dispel a fit 
of ennui. 

We understand this book has been published by the widow of 
the above-mentioned gentleman, and that already several editions 
have been sold in this city alone. 

We can commend it as being "true to nature," and calculated 
to while away a pleasant hour profitably to us. — States and Union. 

A New Southern Book. — We have received from the lady of 
the author a copy of "Scenes in the South, and other Miscellaneous 
Pieces," by the late Col. James R. Creecy. 

This is an entertaining volume of fugitive pieces from the facile 
pen of a refined and intelligent author. Col. Creecy was for- 
merly a southern planter, and previous to his death inti- 
mately associated with the leading statesmen and politicians of 
the country. 

His lady has gathered together the literary effusions of her hus- 
band, and now offers them in a most attractive form, that does 
honor alike, to the author, compiler and publisher. 

Thirteen hundred copies have already been disposed of among 
our most prominent citizens, and no doubt the balance will be in 
instant demand. — Evening Star. 


Scenes in the South, by the late Colonel James R. Creect. 

Colonel Creecy -wielded a vigorous and pleasing pen, and his 
sketches, entitled " Scenes in the South," are true to nature and 
fact. As a daguerreotype of inner Southern life, it must tend to 
dissipate many errors too much in vogue Northward. It is im- 
possible to lay the book down without instruction and improve- 
ment. Tobacco chewers will find a paper in it of rare value. — 
Baltimore Patriot. 

Scenes in the South, by the late Colonel James R. Creect. 

These sketches present a graphic delineation of Southern life 
and character at a time when the charivari in New Orleans was 
the great holiday of the year, and the Pioneer and the Indian were 
not unacquainted. They are racy and amusing, and interspersed 
with touches of sentiment and refinement alike honorable to the 
head and heart of the writer. It is a volume that cannot fail to 
amuse, and, if it does not instruct, it will at least tend to enlarge 
thought, and cultivate real refinement and true courtesy. — Balti- 
more Clipper. 

Scenes in the South. — These sketches are lively and captivating 
descriptions of scenes in New Orleans and other places, and por- 
tray something of the character of the early settlers. We were 
especially pleased with the tone of moral feeling evinced in most 
of them, rendering it a very proper volume for the perusal of 
young persons, who like an amusing narrative, or a well-told 
comical adventure. — Baltimore A merican. 

Scenes in the South. — The volume comprises a number of the pro- 
ductions of a graceful, spirited writer, and describes with graphic 
power scenes, incidents and character peculiar to Southern life in 
the city and country. The ready pen has touched alike new and 
familiar themes with piquant effect, and the book will prove a 
source of entertainment to all classes of readers. — Bait. Sun. 




Hon. Jacob Thompson, Sec. Inte- 
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J. W. H. Underwood. 

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Professor Spencer F. Baird, Smith- 
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Major Geo. W. Bowman, Editor 

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Duncan McXair, Sergeant-at- 
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Department, Washington, D. C. 

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Land Office. 

Judge Hogan, State Department. 

Randolph Coyle. 

Fitz Hugh Coyle. 

Hudson Taylor. 

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Com. Wm. McBlair. 

Lieut. W. Maury. 

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Major Jno. Robinson. 

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